The group of attackers were ready. They'd gathered in a lonely palm grove some time after dark, all swathed in cloaks, turbans on their heads, faces covered by cloths. They were armed with daggers and swords; some carried bows and quivers of arrows. The large cart had been inspected, its wheels checked, the axle greased with animal fat. The two bullocks had been selected for their strength and fitness, not only for carrying away the captives but for the other crime they'd planned. Their leader gathered them together. A small fire of dried camel dung had been made but now this was doused. All warmth had gone and the men shivered in the cold night wind: their leader was anxious that nothing went wrong.

'Remember,' he whispered hoarsely, 'your masks must not slip. Some of you bear telltale mutilation marks. The two captives must not be harmed.' He smiled behind his face mask. 'At least not now.' He turned to his lieutenant. 'You stay with the cart: when we return, have everything ready!'

Once again the leader checked each man, his weapons, the tightness of sandal thongs and face masks.

'Will there be servants?' one of the group asked.

'I don't know,' the leader replied. 'If there are, they too come under the knife.' He breathed in. 'All must go according to plan,' he urged. 'If it does, this time tomorrow we will be as wealthy as princes.'

'Why all this?' Another spoke up. 'Why can't you tell us now?'

'I've told you enough!' the leader snapped. 'Follow my orders and all will be well!'

The speaker leaned forward about to protest but the leader raised his hand.

'I have said enough. I still have business to do.'

He beckoned to his lieutenant and walked to the far side of the grove. The sand-wanderer, kneeling, his back to a palm tree, got up as they approached. He was small and wizened, reeking of sweat and leather.

'You did what we asked?' the leader demanded.

'Yes, Master.'

'And you memorised the way and have the map?'

'Like the palm of my hand. The signs were easy to follow.'

He handed across the makeshift map, scrawled on a piece of papyrus.

'You are sure?' the leader insisted as he pushed the map into the wallet on his belt.

'Master, if a fly lands in the dust I can tell you where and when. All will be ready but it will be dangerous.'

'Why?' the leader asked curiously. 'The place is deserted.' He laughed. 'There are no guards.' He clapped the sand-wanderer on the shoulder. 'You'll be with us, my friend, to ensure your map is correct. You wait and see, you'll be a rich man!'

'Where shall I meet you?' the sand-wanderer demanded.

'Out in the Red Lands,' the leader replied. 'Near the Oasis of Riyah. You know where that is? You'll be paid, like the rest, after it is finished.'

The sand-wanderer nodded. The leader was about to turn away.

'And if you do not come,' the sand-wanderer murmured, 'I can go myself or, better still, seek audience with the priests.'

The leader paused, closed his eyes and turned back.

'What did you say?'

'I was only joking,' the sand-wanderer stammered. 'I will be there.'

'Good!' the leader murmured. He walked away, then grasped his lieutenant by the elbow. 'When this business is done,' he whispered, 'cut that man's throat!' He pulled out the makeshift map and studied it carefully. 'It makes sense,' he breathed, studying the careful scrawl which delineated the path and the entrance to so much treasure. 'I'd kill him now, but we have to make sure.'

They rejoined the rest of the group. The leader whispered instructions. They filed out of the grove, slipping like shadows across the waste ground and up the narrow streets, hugging the blind walls, half crouching, pausing at prearranged signals. A dog barked and a scavenging cat, high on a pile of ordure, arched its back and spat. The group moved on. They reached the cross-roads. One by one they slipped over. At the other side they regrouped and continued their journey. At last the leader reached the garden gate to his victim's house.

'We are at the back,' he whispered. 'A small garden!'

He cupped his hands, helped the first men over the wall then cursed as a dog came yelping up. He heard a muttered oath, the sound of a falling club. One by one the rest of the group clambered over the wall, not sparing a second glance at the dog which lay with its brains dashed out. The garden was well kept and tended. In the faint night light they made their way past the herb and garden patches, the small well and ornamental pool. The house itself was two-storeyed, a small colonnaded portico at the back. The leader tried the door but it was locked. He heard a sound, a muffled voice. He crept to the side: bolts were drawn, the door opened and an old woman, half bent, with greying hair, came out rubbing her eyes. She stood on the edge of the portico and called softly to the dog. The leader drew his dagger and stood behind her: one hand went under her chin and, in the blink of an eye, the old woman died, her throat slashed. He lowered her corpse to the ground and gestured at two of his followers.

'Clean the blood,' he urged. 'Bury her corpse and that of the dog in the garden. Quickly now!'

He and the rest stole into the house, past the earthenware stoves in the small kitchen and up the stairs. Three rooms stood on the polished passageway. One of them, its door open, was empty; another had a small grille. The leader whispered that it must be a storeroom and led his group to the main bedroom. He lifted the wooden latch; the door swung softly back. The leader smiled. Of course, this was a locksmith's house: he would pay attention to a creaking door or a worn leather hinge. They tiptoed across, dividing to stand either side of the broad bed. The young woman was sleeping on her stomach, face turned to one side; the leader looked at the other and immediately recognised Belet.

'Even in sleep,' he muttered, 'he's ugly.'

He was about to crack a joke about how a man could snore without a nose, but remembered some of his companions were of similar ilk. The woman stirred, turning on her back. The leader admired the smooth curve of her neck, the rounded breasts and narrow waist. He pulled back the gauze veil. The woman opened her eyes. He clamped his hand across her mouth, flicking the corner of her eye with the tip of his dagger.

'Hush now, little one!' he murmured.

Belet woke up, lifting his head. He glimpsed the hand, opened his mouth to scream: this too was stifled. Both Belet and Seli were forced back on the bed.

'Now listen,' the leader urged. 'You can struggle or you can come quietly with us. If you scream or protest,' he threatened, 'or try to escape, I'll give your new bride to my men. They'll enjoy her and then cut her throat. Do you agree? You must agree before we take away our hands!'

Belet, eyes rounded in fear, nodded vigorously.

'Where is Aiya?' He sat up.

'She is your servant?'

'Yes, she sleeps downstairs. The watchdog is hers.'

'He's no more,' the leader replied. 'He has suffered an accident.'

'And Aiya?'

'The same accident happened to her.'

Seli opened her mouth to scream but the leader pricked her chin with his dagger, one hand slipping down to cup her breast. Belet went to knock his arm away but one of the group chuckled, seized him by the shoulder and dragged him back on the bed.

'She's as pretty as a plum.' The leader's eyes held Belet's. 'But enough of pleasantries. You are to come with us.'

Belet was now fully awake. 'I know you,' he said. 'I met you in the Place of Hyaenas.'

'That's right. I gave you an invitation; you refused. Now you have no choice.'

'Why?' Belet protested. 'What do you want with me, a poor locksmith?'

'Get dressed!' the leader urged. 'Come with us and you'll see.'

Both captives were dragged from the bed. There was muttered ribaldry about the young woman but the leader ordered them to be silent. The group watched as Belet and Seli hastily dressed, slipping sandals on to their feet. They were dragged down into the garden where they were given permission to relieve themselves, each guarded by two of the group. They were then hustled back into the house. The leader quickly checked the kitchen and storeroom. Bread, fruit and dried meat were hastily packed into a linen cloth. A waterskin was shared out and refilled at the well. The leader went out to inspect the handiwork of the two he had left in the garden. The blood had now been washed away; there was no sign of the old woman's corpse.

'We buried her,' one of them said. 'She can ripen, burst and fertilise the soil.'

The leader nodded and returned to the house to cover up any sign of forced entry. Once satisfied, he went back into the kitchen and studied the food piled high under linen cloths. Shaking his head, he went into Belet's workshop. He found his chest of tools, emptied these into a sack and returned to the garden.

'We have what we want,' he declared.

Belet was forced to open the garden gate. The group bundled their captives, faces shrouded, out into the alleyway. They returned to the palm grove. Belet and Seli's protests and questions were ignored as their hands were bound, mouths gagged. They were bundled into a cart and covered with a clean cloth. Staring in terror at each other, they had to endure the jolts and bumps as the cart wound its way along the rutted trackways. They stopped for a while, the leader telling them to be silent.

'We are now at the city gates,' he warned. 'We will soon be through. You must remain silent or both of you will die.'

Their nightmare journey continued, being jolted and thrown around the cart. At times Belet found it difficult to breathe; gazing across at his wife he noticed with relief that she must have fainted. As the night wore on, the cold seeped through, chilling their sweating bodies. Belet had almost forgotten about the Place of Hyaenas. He had received his pardon and married life had been so blissful. He thought of Aiya and cried for a while. He thought of that priest who'd also visited him. He shouldn't, perhaps, have agreed to his request. Was this the punishment of Anubis? Belet's sobs must have reached his captors for he received a blow on his shoulder. His wife stirred, moaning behind the gag.

At one point the cart stopped, the sheet was pulled back and the gags were removed. They were given stoups of water. Belet gazed around. The darkness was lifting. They were now out of Thebes. On either side the desert stretched under the moonlight, broken here and there by an outcrop of rocks or a clump of palms. Belet was forced to lie back and the journey continued. They had to endure another hour of torture before the cart stopped. They were dragged out, their bodies cut, their lips bruised. Seli immediately sank to her knees, her long black hair falling like a veil on either side of her head. She just crouched, whispering to herself. Belet knelt beside her, putting his arm round her shoulders, and glanced up at his captors. He tried to shade the rising sun with his hand but all he could see was a tall, thick-set man, head and face still covered, except for those mocking, cruel eyes.

Belet murmured endearments to his wife and stared around. The oasis was small but fertile: not only palm trees but shrubs and grass. The rest of the group were at the pool, slaking their thirst. Belet noticed they kept their backs towards him. He heard them speak and was sure he recognised some of their voices: people he had known in the Rhinoceri village. He could expect little mercy from them. They were envious of his good fortune. Seli lifted her head. Her face was tear-streaked, dirty and bruised, her soft shoulders and arms cut and marked. The leader crouched down.

'Look at me!' he urged.

They obeyed.

'Where are we?' Belet asked.

The leader struck him on the cheek whilst the other hand snaked out to squeeze his wife's breast. Belet protested until he felt the tip of a sword prick the back of his neck.

'You are here to do our bidding.' The eyes crinkled in amusement. 'Do you know where you are, Belet? At the Oasis of Riyah.'

Belet closed his eyes and groaned. They were out in the Red Lands, well away from the travellers' tracks or caravan routes. All around them stretched the hot, inhospitable desert. A place of scavengers, both human and animal. A well-known haunt of brigands and outlaws, as well as roaming bands of mercenaries, desert dwellers and sand-wanderers.

'Good!' the leader murmured.

He lifted his head and spoke quickly to the man behind Belet. The fellow went away and returned, throwing a sack on the ground beside the locksmith.

'Open it!' the leader urged.

Belet did so and recognised his work tools, and those of his father: keys, pincers, intricate copper T-shaped levers and clasps.

'I took these from your workshop.'

'What do you need them for?'

Again the slap. Belet cradled his bruised cheek in his hand.

'We are at Riyah,' the leader continued conversationally. 'You can't escape. If you do, we'll hunt you down and bring you back. We would track you, but before we take you...' he shrugged one shoulder, 'others might have you: marauding packs of hyaenas or lions!'

He gazed up through the branches of the palm tree at the blue sky.

'Not to mention the snakes and scorpions. And, of course, you'll have no water. Instead,' he continued, 'you can stay here with us. We have dates, figs, bread and cheese from your kitchen, as much water as you can drink. You two love birds can sit and coo to each other until dusk.'

Belet was about to ask a question but bit his tongue. The leader grinned and tapped him on the scar where his nose had been.

'You are a good pupil, Belet. You are learning quickly. You don't ask me, or any of my men, questions. Just give answers. Now, as I have said, you will stay here until just before dusk. Others will join us. They'll bring dromedaries and pack animals. We'll go back in the direction of Thebes. Darkness will shroud us. You will accompany us, both of you. When we reach our destination, Belet, you will do exactly what we say.' He drew his dagger in a swift arc of light and pressed the tip against Seli's breast. 'Otherwise, we will begin to peel your sweet one here. Some of my men find her very pretty. They say she would be good to ride and they'll have their enjoyment. You will do what we ask?'

Belet closed his eyes and nodded.

'I know what you are thinking,' the leader continued. 'Where are we going and what are we going to do? Well, curiosity will keep you alert. If you co-operate,' his voice turned mellow, 'after it's finished, you'll be given your reward and be allowed to go on your way.'

Belet hid his fear. He knew this man was planning something heinous. When it was finished, he and his wife would not survive a few breaths. The man seemed to read his thoughts.

'All of life is a gamble,' he murmured. 'You had your time in the sun, Belet, now it's the turn of others. You've got no choice but to co-operate. Now,' he said, 'as I left your house I checked the kitchens. Bread had been freshly baked, food bought: were you expecting guests?' He lifted the dagger again.

'Yes,' Belet replied. 'A friend, Shufoy: he and Prenhoe...'

The leader's eyes were no longer smiling.

'The mannikin?' The words were spat out. 'Amerotke's body servant?'

'Yes,' Belet stammered. 'His master's away on Pharaoh's business.'

'Aye, of course he is.' The leader stared across at the pool. 'I know that little dog's turd.' Annoyed, he sprang to his feet. He walked to the edge of the oasis. 'When was he to come?' he shouted over his shoulder.

'Late in the afternoon.'

The leader called two of his followers across. Belet watched the leader whispering to them, emphasising his words with jabbing motions of his hands. The two men scurried off. Belet closed his eyes. He knew where they were going. They were returning to Thebes and his deserted house; they'd be waiting for Shufoy and Prenhoe to arrive. The leader swaggered back.

'Please,' Belet blurted out. 'Shufoy has done no ill.'

This time the blow to his face was harder. Seli protested; the leader grabbed her by the throat, squeezing his fingers tightly till Belet begged him to stop. The leader thrust her away. He emptied the sack on to the ground. Belet recognised how efficient this group of outlaws had been. None of the tools that lay there were for joinery or woodwork, only for locks. He turned to comfort his wife. She looked terrified, a drool of saliva trickling out of the corner of her mouth. Belet wiped this away, stroking her shoulder gently. The leader tapped him on the head.

'Soon,' he said, 'you'll be left alone and then you can comfort her. I want to talk to you about keys and locks.'

'But I haven't fashioned many,' Belet declared. 'Not since my...'

'Not since you were mutilated.' The twinkle returned to the leader's eyes. 'I don't want to talk about your locks but those made by your late lamented father. Now, come, I'm all ears.'

'I tell you,' Prenhoe insisted, 'the dream I had last night was truly remarkable.'

He grasped Shufoy's elbow with one hand and shooed away a scorpion man with a tray of scarab beetles around his neck who'd accosted them. Prenhoe was trying to distract the mannikin: Shufoy had been concerned that he had not seen his master whilst hearing the most frightful rumours from a charioteer about an incident out in the Red Lands. He had, at last, been satisfied that his master had returned safely to one of the royal mansions: Amerotke had been taken deep into the House of Adoration for secret talks with the Pharaoh-Queen.

Shufoy's tummy rumbled. He was looking forward to a good meal at Belet's house. He was also regretting sharing the invitation with Prenhoe, who was gabbling like a goose beside him. The scorpion man wouldn't be put off so easily. He came darting in. Shufoy raised his parasol. The fellow thought again and scuttled away.

'I tell you this,' Prenhoe repeated as they stopped by a meat stall: its owner had grilled fatty pieces of gazelle meat over a moveable stove. Shufoy's mouth watered. He was so hungry! The crowds thronged about him. He glimpsed two Nubian archers from the palace, bows slung over their shoulders, making their way across the market, and wondered again what his master was doing. A large, fat fly settled on one of the pieces of meat: this curbed Shufoy's appetite.

'Very well, Prenhoe, tell me what you dreamt.'

'I was making love to a beautiful girl by the riverside. What she could do with her lips, Shufoy, was remarkable! The land went abruptly dark. The sun turned black and strange red lights appeared all around me.'

'And, I suppose, the girl had fled?'

'I was by myself. Huge, fierce creatures slunk out of the darkness. They had the heads of lizards and the bodies of men. I thought they were the devourers from the Underworld. I was all alone. I saw a chariot speeding towards me. You came through the night...'

'On the ground or through the air?' Shufoy queried.

'Through the air. I didn't hear the wheels. The horses were a liverish grey with eyes which glowed like charcoal, whilst the breath from their nostrils smelt of incense. You swept me up and carried me away to a place of light.'

'This girl?' Shufoy asked mischievously. 'Any chance she'll come into my dream?'

Prenhoe sniffed. They turned off the main concourse, the Avenue of the Sphinxes, and made their way through the narrow side streets.

'We are here at last!'

Shufoy stopped by the doorway of a small two-storeyed house which stood by itself on the corner of a shabby marketplace. He gazed wistfully round.

'They used to sell love amulets here before misfortune befell me. I knew a girl who lived over there: slippery as a snake she was.'

Shufoy knocked on the door but there was no answer. He banged with his parasol, the sound echoing through the house.

'Are you sure they are expecting us?' Prenhoe demanded.

'Belet keeps his word. He wants to thank me for all I have done.'

'Is this an auspicious time for visiting?' Prenhoe asked. 'Is it the day when the god Thoth replaced the majesty of Atum at the Pool of Two Truths at the temple? Sometimes I get confused. I know it's not the day which marks the anniversary of Seth's attack on Horus, whilst tomorrow is when Sekhmet the Destroyer unveiled her eyes and unleashed pestilence on mankind...'

'Is that your birthday?' Shufoy asked innocently.

He wandered across the square and glanced at a sundial on its stone plinth.

'The time is right,' he remarked. 'Four hours before sunset: Belet said if we drank too much we could stay the night.'

'This reminds me of the Day of the Sphinx!' Prenhoe declared mournfully. 'Isn't Belet supposed to welcome us at the door with a garland of flowers for our necks and a cake of perfume for our heads?'

Shufoy wasn't listening. He scratched his straggly beard and walked down the alleyway to the garden gate. He glanced up at the small stela of copper fixed into a wall on the side: it showed Horus as a falcon, perched on a golden disc. Shufoy felt uneasy. Belet and Seli were hospitable and kind: they should be here welcoming them.

'Where did you meet Belet?' Prenhoe asked.

'When he first arrived in the village of the Rhinoceri,' Shufoy replied. 'He comes from good family, you know? However, his father developed a taste for heavy wines. A very rich man, Belet said he had nightmares, hideous dreams. He gave up shaving his head and drank from morning to night. By the time Belet was a young man, the family wealth was dissipated.'

'I had a distant kinsman like that.'

Shufoy wasn't listening. He pushed the gate open and went up the garden path.

'He's been digging in his garden,' Prenhoe called out.

Shufoy looked across. His unease deepened. He had been here before and Belet had shown him that plot, a favourite place to grow vegetables. These now lay scattered around the newly turned soil. They entered the coolness of the colonnaded portico. Shufoy pushed open the rear door.

'Belet, Seli, Aiya!'

Shufoy froze. Something was very wrong.

'Prenhoe,' he whispered. 'Sniff!'

'I can't smell anything,' the scribe replied.

'That's worrying,' Shufoy declared darkly. 'Belet said they were preparing a feast. If they've gone out, where's Aiya and her vicious little dog?'

Shufoy went into the kitchen.

'Nothing's out of place,' he murmured.

He felt the earthenware stove. The black charcoal still lay heaped and unfired. He noticed how the linen cloths had been thrown back; bread and cheese had been taken. He drew his dagger. Prenhoe, alarmed, also drew his. Shufoy climbed the stairs leading to the upper storey. He pushed open the bedroom door. He glimpsed the bed, its gauze veils thrown back, the pillowed headrest carved at each end in the shape of a roaring lion. He looked at the floor. There was dirt. Belet was a very proud man. The floor usually gleamed with polish. Shufoy's heart skipped a beat, and his mouth went dry. He took Prenhoe into the bedroom. They checked caskets and coffers.

Shufoy opened the bedroom door to leave. He was halfway out when he glimpsed a movement to his right. He brought the parasol up, hitting his assailant in the stomach even as Prenhoe screamed. Behind him Shufoy heard a clash of knives. He glanced quickly over his shoulder. Prenhoe was now struggling with a man whose head and face were masked and covered. Shufoy heard a sound. His assailant was coming in, knife snaking out. Shufoy ducked, driving his shoulder into the man's stomach. The silence in the house was shattered. Prenhoe was yelling like a warrior: educated as a scribe and a fervent believer of his own dreams and anyone else's, he had also been trained as a soldier. The scribe soon realised his opponent had not. Time and again the man came in, but his use of the knife was clumsy. Shufoy, meanwhile, using his parasol as a spear, was driving his assailant towards the top of the stairs. The man found it difficult to deal with this mannikin who jabbed the parasol like one of Pharaoh's veterans would use a spear. He increased the jabbing. The man panicked, retreating in shuffling steps. He didn't realise he'd reached the top of the stairs. Shufoy lunged with his dagger. The man sprang back, missed his footing and crashed down the stairs. He hit the wall at the bottom, his head snapping to the right. Even from where he stood Shufoy heard the crack as the assailant broke his neck. He turned with a roar and raced to assist Prenhoe. The second attacker panicked. He threw the dagger at Prenhoe and, spinning on his heel, raced towards the window at the far end of the gallery. He pulled the shutters back. Prenhoe was faster. The man tried to lift his foot on to the sill. The scribe, full of the rage of battle, caught up with him.

'Don't!' Shufoy shouted. 'Take him...'

Too late! Prenhoe, using both hands, drove his dagger deep into the man's exposed neck. Coughing and choking, the assailant lurched back. He dragged down the face mask as if he wished to breathe but he was already coughing blood. He staggered forward and crashed to the floor.

For a while Prenhoe and Shufoy just stood, gasping for breath.

'I told you my dream meant something,' Prenhoe stammered, leaning against the wall, clutching his stomach. 'Faces of lizards they had...'

'Oh shut up!' Shufoy bawled.

He went to the man at the window, sprawled in a widening pool of his own blood. He turned him over and pulled back the face cloth. The face beneath was lean and vicious, marred by a large scar across the right cheek. Shufoy searched the corpse carefully.

'Nothing,' he murmured. 'A professional assassin.'

He hurried down the stairs to the second corpse. The man's face was dirty and unshaven: his one good eye was half closed in death; the other was simply an empty black hole.

'A pretty pair of turtle doves!' Shufoy shouted.

He searched the corpse.

'Nothing,' he sighed. He called Prenhoe down to the kitchen. 'You did well,' he praised the scribe. 'My assailant had an eye missing. I wondered why he couldn't follow my parasol.'

The scribe had now recovered and was more concerned with proving his dream was correct. Shufoy held up a hand.

'I am thirsty and I am hungry.'

They found some beer, bread and cheese in the kitchen.

'Put that on the table,' Shufoy told Prenhoe. 'I just want to make sure this house is empty.'

He went back and searched, but apart from the two stiffening corpses and the signs of their struggle on the gallery outside the bedroom, Shufoy could see little amiss. He went out to the workshop: again nothing looked disturbed. He glimpsed the sandalwood tool-chest, Belet's prized possession. Shufoy had been with him when he had brought it back to his new house. The mannikin turned back the lid.

'Empty!' he murmured.

Scratching his head, Shufoy rejoined Prenhoe in the kitchen. They ate and drank in silence.

'What do we have here?' Shufoy exclaimed. 'Belet and Seli have gone. Some food has been taken and so have Belet's tools.' He cleaned his mouth with his tongue. 'Belet wouldn't return to his old ways: Seli would see to that. He was approached by someone at the Place of Hyaenas near the village of the Rhinoceri. My only conclusion is that whoever that was came back for him. Belet and Seli have been kidnapped, his tools have been taken and the robbery is going to take place soon.'

'They could have just come to silence him,' Prenhoe declared, 'then stolen his tools.'

'In which case, where are their corpses?'

Shufoy went cold. He put down the beer jug and, followed by Prenhoe, hurried into the garden. They knelt in the vegetable patch and scraped back the dirt. They soon uncovered the shallow grave. Aiya's corpse, soaked in blood; the dog, its skull shattered, thrown in on top. Prenhoe turned away to be sick. Shufoy, shivering, got to his feet. He stared towards the house. He had the most terrifying premonition that he would never see Belet and Seli alive again. He went over, patted Prenhoe on the shoulder and took him back to the house.

'Why?' Prenhoe gasped. He crossed to a water vase to clean his lips and chin.

'It's a pity we killed those two turtle doves.' Shufoy sat on the stool. 'I think it is the gang from the village of the Rhinoceri. They came here, killed the servant and took Belet and Seli captive. They also took his tools for key-making: that's because they intend to break into some House of Silver or treasure chest. The stoves are cold,' Shufoy continued. 'The house is untouched. I therefore suspect they were taken during the night.'

'But why were these two killers left behind?'

'Somehow or other their leader must have discovered that Belet was expecting guests. The two assassins were left to take care of us. Now that's interesting; why?'

Prenhoe just shook his head.

'It means,' Shufoy continued, 'that whatever they've planned is going to take place soon. Probably today or later tonight. Once the robbery has occurred, they couldn't really care who finds that Belet and Seli are missing. In fact, my friends could be blamed for the crime.' He picked up his beer jug and slurped from it.

'But why leave only two of the gang?'

Shufoy touched the scar on his nose and smiled.

'What do you find amusing?' Prenhoe asked.

'The fact that I have no nose,' Shufoy retorted. 'I suspect that most of the gang is made up of Rhinoceri. If the attack failed, the disfigured corpses might point to where the abductors of Belet and Seli came from.'

'Shouldn't Asural and some of his police go out to the village?'

Shufoy shook his head. 'That's a waste of time. They'll find some inhabitants missing but no one will know where they've gone or what they're doing. It also means,' Shufoy continued, 'that the gang is not a large one. They could only afford to leave two men.' He smiled across at Prenhoe. 'They thought a dwarf and a soft-handed scribe would pose no real danger.'

'Well, they were mistaken, weren't they?' Prenhoe shouted.

'Yes, yes, they were. Look, Prenhoe, fetch Asural. Tell him to bring the police here. Aiya's corpse should have proper burial.'

'And you?'

'I am going to stay here for a while.'

Prenhoe needed no second bidding. He wanted to get away from this house of violent attack and horrid corpses. Shufoy waited until he had gone and then searched the place from top to bottom. He discovered nothing except a small coffer beneath the bed. He pulled this out. Inside he found papyri, nothing remarkable: some letters written by Belet to Seli. One yellowing, dingy scroll caught his attention. He unrolled this on the floor and studied it carefully. It had been written by Belet's father, Lakhet. The first part was in a scribe's hand but this broke off halfway through, to be continued in an almost illegible hand. It was a draft of a prayer, one of those paeans of praise much loved by courtiers and officials:

 'I give you thanks, oh Osiris:

 Lord of two horns,

 Wearer of the Great Crown:

 I give you thanks for choosing me,

 Lakhet, your humble servant.

 I have been touched by Pharaoh's glory.

 I have worked for the great builder.

 I have fashioned doorways to the gods.

 And my work has been blessed...'

The hymn went on and on praising Osiris; it was also a clever boast on what Lakhet had achieved in his life. Shufoy sighed, dropped it in the chest and pushed this back under the bed. He gazed around. In a corner, on a beautiful carved acacia table, stood a statue of the jackal god Anubis. Shufoy felt a chill of fear. Crawling on his hands and knees, he went and knelt in front of the statue. He closed his eyes and extended his hands in silent prayer. In his soul Shufoy knew hideous deeds had taken place in this house. Belet and Seli had been abducted and marked for death. He went back on his heels and opened his eyes. But for what? What robbery was planned?

Anubis: the principal Egyptian God of the Dead.


Amerotke sat on the roof of his house. Hatusu and Senenmut had supervised the removal of the sarcophagus and returned to Thebes early in the afternoon. He had promptly excused himself, insisting that he must see his family. The Mitanni delegation had just returned, so matters could wait for a while. He was also engrossed by what he had seen in the royal tomb: those telltale pictures on the wall. He wanted to gather all the information, everything he had learnt, and argue with himself about the different possibilities. Hatusu, relieved at what they had found in the sarcophagus, absent-mindedly agreed, though Senenmut insisted that he return to the Temple of Anubis the following day.

He'd found Shufoy waiting for him on the highway outside the gate to the house. At first glance he knew something was wrong.

'I don't want the lady Norfret to know,' Shufoy murmured, 'but Belet and Seli have been abducted. Their servant was murdered and buried in the garden. Prenhoe and I were attacked...'

Amerotke took him by the arm and led him back along the road to sit under a tamarind tree. He made him calm down and tell him exactly what had happened at Belet's house.

'You were right to wait for me,' Amerotke declared once Shufoy had finished the story. 'The only thing that agitates the lady Norfret is the prospect of us being attacked in our home. If she gets to know that a friend or acquaintance has suffered such a fate...' He patted Shufoy's hand. 'I apologise. I still don't know what is planned, but I agree, whatever it is, it will happen soon. Belet has been abducted because of his skill as a locksmith; Seli was taken so as to ensure silence. But where?' Amerotke rubbed the side of his face. 'I could list a thousand and one places which brigands would love to rob: mansions with their treasure rooms, merchants and their warehouses, shrines, money-changers' shops, places I don't even know about.'

'Are Belet and Seli in danger?' Shufoy closed his eyes in desperation. His master's face told him everything.

'Brigands are not judges,' Amerotke replied. 'Once they have their hearts set on thievery, what does a human life mean?'

'What can we do?' Shufoy wailed, springing to his feet. 'I have Asural and Prenhoe combing the city.'

'I doubt if they'll find much,' Amerotke retorted. He got to his feet. 'But I thank you for waiting for me here. Once we are in the house, no mention must be made of this.'

Shufoy studied him closely.

'And you.' The mannikin pointed to the cuts on Amerotke's arms and legs. 'What has happened? I heard...'

'Oh, that's another thing we don't mention.' Amerotke smiled. 'We have problems enough, Shufoy. Let time pass before the lady Norfret gets to know. Now, come on. We must not be seen dallying here.'

Norfret and his sons were delighted to see him and asked question after question. Amerotke immediately dispatched Shufoy back to the temple to make certain enquiries whilst he and Norfret retired to their bedchamber, where, as Norfret put it, they could discuss matters more 'intimately'. After their lovemaking she questioned him closely. Amerotke grew evasive but he knew Norfret: she would return to the matter. She'd noticed the cuts on his body and referred to certain gossip Shufoy had picked up in the temple. Nevertheless, she had not insisted. She was now below stairs, arguing with the steward over what should be collected from the orchards. The boys were busy in the courtyard, where the carpenter was helping them build a toy chariot.

Amerotke, bathed and changed, sat enjoying the evening breeze whilst writing down all he had learnt. The elmwood table was now littered with inkpots and styli. He'd been so busy, his wrists and fingers ached. He put the stylus down and took Sinuhe's manuscript out of its leather case. He'd read some of it and was particularly interested in the traveller's tales of the different tribes which lived in the jungles hundreds of miles south of the third cataract.

'I can see why people wanted to buy this,' Amerotke murmured to himself.

Sinuhe was a born story-teller with a wealth of knowledge. He described paths and routes in great detail: how different villages and tribes should be approached; sources of water and food; the dangers posed by marauders or prowlers; and how directions were to be taken. Amerotke had read similar accounts and listened to the tales of self-styled travellers. Most of these were fantasy rather than fact, with their stories about frozen lakes which housed ravenous beasts. Sinuhe's account, however, rang true. He detailed everything, even drawing crude but very clear maps. Once again Amerotke turned to the section on the dwarf Nubians, their customs and, above all, their style of hunting and warfare.

Amerotke read this again, put the manuscript back and returned to his writing. His sons were now shrieking, echoing Shufoy's deep voice as he pretended to be a marauding baboon. The little man came up the stairs. His eyes had that aggrieved look. He had not relished the errand: he was more intent on finding out exactly what had happened to his master and his friend Belet, and how he could win the heart of that dancing girl.

'Well?'

Amerotke pulled across a stool and poured him a jug of beer.

'My love poems have not been successful, Master,' Shufoy declared mournfully. 'Listen to this.' He put the jug down and spread his hands.

'The voice of the wild goose calls me!

 It calls and calls,

 But I am entangled in the drawnet of your love...'

'Very good, Shufoy,' Amerotke said hastily. 'But that's enough of that.'

'I didn't find Prenhoe,' Shufoy whispered, 'or Asural. Master, what could have happened to Belet? Why did the thieves take all his work tools?'

'I don't know,' Amerotke retorted. 'Shufoy, all we know is that a robbery is planned. Asural has been alerted, yes? At this moment in time I can do no more.'

'You are no longer interested in me,' Shufoy declared petulantly. 'You won't tell me what happened to you.' His eyes became bright with excitement. 'I have heard rumours, Master.' He looked over his shoulder. 'If the lady Norfret knew...'

'If the lady Norfret knows,' Amerotke interrupted, 'you'll have more than the wild geese after you. I'll tell you later.'

'You were in danger, weren't you?' Shufoy asked plaintively. 'Prenhoe had a dream last night. He was down near the Nile with a beautiful woman...'

'The same woman from his former dreams?' Amerotke asked.

Shufoy stamped his foot.

'The Temple of Anubis,' Amerotke insisted. 'What did you find?'

Shufoy sighed mournfully, and his master grasped him by the wrist.

'Shufoy, what did you discover?'

'I questioned people carefully, especially the priest Nemrath relieved after the day watch. He says it's possible, but not probable, that someone could have slipped into the chapel, but he doesn't think so.'

'And?'

'The same goes for Weni hiding in one of those recesses. He would have had to be very silent. If Nemrath had seen him, a stranger holding a dagger, he would have raised the alarm.'

Amerotke released his wrist.

'True, true. I'd thought of that myself. So, Wanef was lying.'

'I saw her and the other two in the temple,' Shufoy declared. 'Hunro and Mensu were as surly as usual but she looked like a cat who had caught a mouse. She asked after you. She said that as they had returned to Thebes they had passed the remains of a chariot and talked of gorse bushes being set alight.'

'Never mind.' Amerotke pressed his fingers against Shufoy's lips as they heard Norfret on the stairs.

'More secrets?'

Norfret stood, slightly provocatively, smiling at her husband.

'I've just remembered the message I sent to you.'

'What message?' Amerotke demanded.

'About the chest and the key.'

'I tried to tell him.' Shufoy spoke up. 'But as usual, the great judge was too busy to listen.'

'Tell me again.'

'The murder in the Temple of Anubis.' Norfret came and sat down next to Shufoy. 'You told me that the door was locked and the key still held by the victim, Nemrath, yes?'

Amerotke nodded.

'Well.' Norfret tapped the blue cord around her neck. 'I took a key from downstairs. I went into our bedchamber.' She grinned. 'I think you know where that is. I was sure I brought the correct key to the coffer. Now, I have used that key on countless occasions. However, this time, I brought the wrong one. I was really annoyed. I had to go downstairs and find the true one.'

Amerotke sat puzzled.

'I am sorry, I don't understand?'

'I do, I do.' Shufoy jumped to his feet, leaping about.

'How do we know,' Norfret continued, 'that the key on Nemrath's girdle was the one which truly fitted the door?'

'Because the key is specially made. Anyone who tried to replicate it, well, they couldn't. It would provoke suspicion.'

'No, no.' Norfret was beside herself with excitement. 'What's important about a key, my lord judge? It's not the rod, nor the handle, but the teeth at the end: that's what requires the skill of a locksmith. A key must fit into a lock and turn it, yes?'

Amerotke gasped.

'What happens,' Norfret insisted, 'if someone got into the chapel, killed Nemrath, took the sacred amethyst, put a replica key on his belt and left, locking the door behind him?'

'It's possible,' Amerotke conceded. 'But that makes Nemrath both victim and accomplice to the crime. Nemrath must have opened the door for his killer.'

'Agreed, Master, agreed!' Shufoy exclaimed. 'Remember what the Crocodile Man said about Nemrath: fat and lecherous! How he loved soft flesh.'

'Ita?' Amerotke exclaimed. He shook his head. 'The physician told me there was no sign of Nemrath having a sexual encounter before he died.'

'How do you know she even let him touch her?'

'True, true, Shufoy.' Amerotke now caught their excitement. 'But the replica key?'

'It's easily done,' Shufoy declared. He pointed to a key in a coffer near the table. 'You go down to a coppersmith or a bronze worker, you show him a drawing...'

'Of course!' Amerotke got to his feet; he grasped Norfret by the shoulder and kissed her full on the lips. 'If they ever need another judge in Thebes...'

'No thank you.' Norfret looked up, her eyes unsmiling. 'I do not wish to travel in a chariot across a lonely desert. I will have the truth, my lord judge.'

'Yes, yes, you will.' Amerotke sat down and tightened his sandals. 'And so will I.'

'You are going now?'

'Of course I am. Thanks to you, I know how Nemrath was killed and the Glory of Anubis stolen. Time is pressing on. The Mitanni will seal the treaty and be gone. I suspect the Glory of Anubis will go with them. Shufoy will accompany me. There are guards enough at Anubis so we needn't disturb Asural.'

Amerotke refused to be distracted or delayed. He reassured Norfret that they would return later that night. He kissed the boys and told them to be good, then he and Shufoy hastened out along the road back into Thebes.

The city gates had been closed but the night watch let them through a postern door. They soon reached the Temple of Anubis. The divine precincts were empty. Amerotke, exercising his authority, asked to see the high priest. When he arrived, Amerotke demanded to interview Khety and Ita in the chapel where the sacred amethyst had been kept.

'You have news of this?' the high priest queried, head going back, his sharp eyes bright with excitement.

'I know how it was stolen,' Amerotke confessed. 'But as to its whereabouts, that's another matter. Oh, the captain of the guard, Tetiky, can also join us.'

An acolyte priest took Amerotke along to the chapel. The place looked shabby, not swept or washed. The priest explained that it would only be reconsecrated once the sacred amethyst was found. He lit lamps and left. Amerotke re-examined the pool and recesses. He realised it would have been very difficult for Weni to hide there, kill Nemrath and escape. Footfalls sounded in the corridor outside. He and Shufoy organised three stools; Amerotke sat in the priest's chair, Shufoy standing beside him. Khety, Ita and Tetiky looked nervous as the acolyte priest ushered them in. Amerotke glimpsed the temple police behind: he ordered these to close the door and stay on guard.

'What is this?' Tetiky protested. 'I am brought here, by my own men, like a criminal!'

'I don't know if you are guilty or not,' Amerotke agreed. He pointed a finger at Khety and Ita. 'You two certainly are!'

'This is untrue!' Khety cried.

Ita sat, shoulders hunched, hands in her lap.

'I am tired of these allegations,' the priest wailed. 'Just because I was outside the door doesn't mean I am guilty.'

'I thought you'd say that,' Amerotke replied. 'It's a perfect defence, isn't it? You were near where the crime was committed but no proof links you to the sacrilege. In fact the reverse. So, provided you stay quiet and act the innocent, eventually you would be allowed to walk free.'

'Where is the evidence?' Ita spoke up.

'First things first; who was Weni?'

'I don't know.' Khety shook his head. 'He was a herald, wasn't he? Killed when the sacred pack broke free?'

'He approached you,' Amerotke continued remorselessly. 'Weni offered you a fortune to steal the Glory of Anubis.'

'A fortune?' Khety protested. 'Where would Weni get a fortune?'

'The Mitanni: they would love the sacred amethyst and be delighted to insult the Divine Hatusu. Weni was an Egyptian herald; he was also a spy and traitor. He came to you with a plan, didn't he? Let me put it this way: I know about the key!'

Khety paled; Ita swallowed hard and looked anxiously away.

'You put your heads together: all you had to do was steal the Glory of Anubis. You wouldn't have to sell it but hand it to Weni and receive a lavish reward. You'd then wait two or three months until the dust had settled. Khety wouldn't be the first priest to leave a temple and go elsewhere.'

'You are forgetting about Nemrath, aren't you?'

'No, I'm not forgetting Nemrath. I saw his corpse being prepared for burial. Has his Ka gone over the Far Horizon? Or has he stayed, Khety, to see justice done? Look around this chamber, how the shadows dance.'

Amerotke grasped the priest's shoulder and made him look around. 'Do you see the statue of Anubis, Khety? One day, perhaps sooner than you think, you'll travel the halls of the Underworld. You'll stand before the gods to confess your crime.'

Khety broke free.

'What crime?' he protested. 'What proof do you have?'

'Do you know the punishment for murder, sacrilege and theft?' Amerotke warned. 'You'll both be arraigned before me in the Hall of Two Truths. You will be sentenced to death and taken out to the Red Lands. Pharaoh's soldiers will torture you. Perhaps they'll enjoy young Ita. After all, once sentence is passed, you are no longer persons but Pharaoh's property. They'll maltreat you before digging deep pits in the sands and burying you alive.'

Sweat broke out on Ita's face. You are the softest, Amerotke thought: you never thought about discovery and punishment. He recalled Nemrath's corpse, the hideous sacrilege committed here, and kept his composure.

'They'll bury you deep and place rocks on the top. You will try to dig yourself out but you'll find it hard even to move. The sand will clog your nose, mouth and eyes. You'll feel the searing heat and the cold of the encroaching night. Perhaps you might break free but you will be weakened.' He glanced at the woman. 'Have you ever been out in the Red Lands, Ita? I have. The lions are hungry because the Mitanni have slaughtered all the game. They'll smell your fear. Perhaps they'll come and try to dig you out.'

He paused. Ita was rubbing her arms as if freezing cold.

'Have you ever seen a pack of lions dig out a warthog? They stay at the hole for days.'

'Stop it,' Khety interrupted. 'You have no right...' He got to his feet.

'I have every right,' Amerotke replied. 'And where are you going, Khety?'

He glanced at the captain of the guard, sitting as immobile as a statue. The man looked fearful but Amerotke sensed he was innocent.

'Khety, sit down! Tetiky,' he murmured, 'you may stand outside. But don't go far. If Khety or Ita here leave without my permission,' Amerotke extended his fingers, displaying the ring of office, 'they are to be executed immediately.'

Tetiky got to his feet.

'Before you leave,' Amerotke demanded, 'tell me one thing. You were on duty the night Nemrath was killed and the sacred amethyst was stolen?'

'Yes, my lord.'

'You patrolled the corridors and galleries? Khety never left his post?'

'No!'

'And Ita here brought down refreshments?'

'I saw her come and I saw her go.'

'But when you saw her return to the kitchens, you said she was carrying a jug?'

'Yes, that's right!' the captain of the guard exclaimed.

Amerotke smiled. 'Now you are thinking as I do. Wasn't she supposed to leave the jug with Khety?'

Tetiky nodded.

'Oh, by the way,' Amerotke added, 'you mentioned stories about the god Anubis being seen round this temple. Do you believe them?'

The soldier smiled thinly and shook his head.

'Probably a priest,' he replied, 'wearing one of the sacred masks. It sometimes happens.'

'And who glimpsed him?'

'Some of the guards.'

'Ask them again,' Amerotke commanded. 'Say I want a close description of what they actually saw, particularly his hands.'

Tetiky agreed.

Amerotke waited until the captain had closed the door behind him before turning back to the other two.

'I am going to prove,' he continued evenly, 'that both of you are killers. You are quite the sugared almond, aren't you, Ita? Sweet and coy, a happy handful in bed, yes?'

'I am a priestess. You insult me!'

'You could be Pharaoh's daughter for all I care,' Amerotke retorted. 'You're still a murderess. Let me tell you what happened: Weni was a traitor and a spy. He was under orders to steal the Glory of Anubis. Any of Egypt's enemies would have paid dearly to hold the sacred amethyst and quietly mock the Divine Hatusu. Weni brought you a knife, one that could not be traced, and concocted a devious plot. Nemrath was lecherous. He lusted after you, didn't he, Ita? You would blink your pretty eyes and say your heart belonged to Khety. Only the gods know the tangled skein of your plot. Nemrath's appetite was whetted but Khety was the obstacle. Eventually Nemrath was presented with a solution.'

Amerotke paused. He just hoped he could break the stubbornness of these two killers.

'It is fashionable in the temples of Thebes for priests to share the charms and affections of a handmaid. Khety eventually proved no different; except that he told Nemrath that he didn't want anyone else to learn about this sharing.' Amerotke tapped his knee. 'Yes, that's it. Khety didn't want anyone to see or hear Nemrath enjoying the pretty Ita, nor did he want Nemrath boasting about his new-found conquest. Did Nemrath pay you, Khety? I have yet to see the high priest. But don't the servants of the god keep their wealth and precious possessions in the House of Silver? Don't the scribes of the treasury make careful note of how much is withdrawn? I'll tell you what...' Amerotke paused. 'I have yet to check those records. I made a mistake, I should have done it earlier. However, I'll soon prove Nemrath made such a withdrawal, a considerable portion of his private wealth. No one will know where it's gone but I'll find out. Some merchant or banker in Thebes will have it under Khety or Ita's name.'

Both the accused grew agitated, moving restlessly.

'Good,' Amerotke murmured. 'I believe we are making progress! Khety and Ita received treasure, Nemrath would now enjoy Ita, but how and where? So Khety comes up with an ingenious plan. Nemrath is the vigil priest before the Shrine of Anubis. Khety is on guard outside. Night falls, Ita comes tiptoeing along, ostensibly bringing refreshments for Khety. He, of course, taps the door: he would do it when neither Tetiky nor any of the guards were around, a prearranged signal. Nemrath is beside himself with lust. He cannot believe his good fortune. He will lie with Ita. She will spend the night in his arms: who cares about sacrilege or desecration? He tiptoes across the chamber and unlocks the door. A makeshift bridge is laid across the sacred pool. Ita slips in. The bridge is withdrawn, and Nemrath locks the door. What Nemrath doesn't know is that Ita is carrying Weni's dagger. She has no intention of allowing the fat priest to enjoy her.'

Ita's face was now a sheen of sweat. She kept dabbing at her neck. Khety was glaring murderously at him.

'Please,' Amerotke warned, 'do not do anything stupid or you will die on the spot.'

'I don't think he will.' Shufoy spoke up.

He'd stood, fascinated, listening to his master, torn between admiration and incredulity at the soft, doe-like looks of Ita. He drew his dagger.

'My master is safe, isn't he, Khety?'

'I am still waiting for the proof!' the priest spat out.

'Oh, we'll come to that by and by,' Amerotke retorted. 'We have plenty of proof.' He steeled himself for the lie. 'You see, Nemrath told someone about what was to happen.'

'He couldn't have done! He swore...!' Ita closed her eyes.

'You stupid bitch!' Khety hissed.

'As I was saying,' Amerotke continued, 'Nemrath was in here with Ita, beside himself with excitement. He rearranges the cushions for his bed of love. Ita approaches and strikes, driving the dagger deep into Nemrath's heart, a sudden killing blow. Nemrath would only have a few heartbeats before he dies. Ita then takes the Glory of Anubis from its repository and goes and taps on the door, a sign that all is ready.'

'But the key?' Khety exclaimed. 'The bridge wasn't disturbed.'

'Oh, there are some details I have not discovered: suffice to say that Ita uses the pool ledge to unlock the door. She then leaves the chamber. You, Khety, have the makeshift bridge, a plank of wood, ready. No one is around: you enter the chamber with the replica key which, in all aspects, looks like the one to the Divine Chapel. You put this on Nemrath's girdle, cross the wooden plank, withdraw that, swing the door closed and lock it. You hide the key on your person; as for the plank of wood? Well, there are windows and doorways in the gallery outside and you quickly get rid of it. Ita is standing on guard whilst you do all this. You now have the key, Ita has the sacred amethyst. The jug she has brought only contains a little wine or beer; that's emptied into your cup and the amethyst is put inside. Ita takes it off to the kitchen and you resume your vigil.' Amerotke pointed to the door. 'Now we come to the last and most dangerous part of your crime. The next morning the chapel has to be forced. All is confusion, Nemrath's dead, the sacred amethyst is missing. Who cares now about the key? Especially as it's still hanging on Nemrath's girdle. No one, in all that panic, bothers about a key for a lock that is broken. In the initial confusion Khety replaces the replica key with the genuine one and the mystery is complete.'

'But I was on guard,' Khety stammered. 'I knew I'd be suspected.'

'Really?' Amerotke retorted. 'That was your defence. How could you get in and out? Tetiky did not notice anything untoward. So, why should you be accused? You weren't carrying the sacred amethyst, and even if you had stolen it, how could you sell it to anyone? True, the finger of suspicion might be pointed, but as you keep saying, where is the proof? Now all has changed. You'll go on trial for your lives. Shufoy here will search around.' Amerotke used his hands to imitate the weighing of scales. 'We'll find more evidence. In the end, the only conclusion will be that Khety and Ita are guilty of murder, sacrilege and theft.' Amerotke got up and stared down at them. 'I will give you a short while, only a very short while, to talk to each other.'

'What is there to talk about?' Ita protested, peering around. 'You've found us guilty, we are going to die.'

'Ah!' Amerotke smiled and sat down. 'You are most fortunate. You see, what the Divine Hatusu wants is the return of the Glory of Anubis. Nemrath, to a certain extent, brought about his own death. If you confess and tell me all, if I can return the Glory of Anubis to its shrine, then this is what will happen. You will both be allowed to leave Thebes, dressed in the clothes you are wearing. You will be permitted to carry one weapon, a satchel of food and drink. Where you go and what you do is a matter for you, provided you never return to Thebes. You are banished for life, as you are from service in any temple in the Upper or Lower Kingdom of Egypt!' Amerotke leaned forward. 'Think about it,' he said carefully. 'It's better than choking to death out in the Red Lands.'

He got up and indicated that Shufoy follow him. They left the chapel. Tetiky and his guards stood outside in the passageway. Amerotke dismissed these but told the captain to stay. He then looked along the passageway and glimpsed the window high in the wall, noticing small recesses and corners, an ideal place to hide the plank used to cross the sacred pool.

Tetiky was obviously still nervous.

'I am innocent, my lord.'

Amerotke clapped him on the shoulder.

'Of course you are, but those two aren't.'

The man's eyes rounded in amazement.

'They are guilty, my lord?'

'As the god Seth is of murder. You will be informed later.'

'And the sacred amethyst?'

'I hope, for their sakes, they return it. Now listen, Tetiky.' He grasped the man by the arm. 'These rumours of the god Anubis being seen walking through the temple?'

'I never saw it,' the captain replied.

'Then who did?'

Tetiky called one of the guards over, a small, soft-faced recruit who came hurrying up.

'Tell my lord Amerotke what you say about the god Anubis.'

'I didn't see anything,' the man stammered. 'It was probably a dream or a trick of the light.'

He glanced quickly over his shoulder at his companions at the end of the passageway. Amerotke smiled down at him.

'Captain Tetiky, this soldier is to be rewarded for his sharp sight and his vigilance. You did see something, didn't you?' he insisted. 'But now you want to dismiss it because others are teasing you? Yet, I am sure, if I went round this temple, some other servant or guard may have glimpsed the same.'

The recruit glanced nervously at Tetiky.

'Tell me the truth.'

Amerotke turned and peered through the half-open door: Khety and Ita were sitting close, heads together.

'Two nights before the dancing girl was killed,' the man replied slowly, 'I was on guard, or rather patrolling the area between the Gates of Pearl and the garden. I heard a sound and turned quickly. I only saw it for a few seconds: someone dressed like the god Anubis. Whoever it was had a black and gold jackal mask over their head, war sandals, a black leather kilt. A cloak hung down from the shoulders.

'Was it man or woman?'

'I don't know, I couldn't tell, it looked like a woman. Something elegant.' He shook his head. 'I don't know.'

'Now.' Amerotke leaned closer. 'I want you to recall exactly what this figure was carrying. It was carrying something?'

The recruit closed his eyes.

'Yes, it looked like a short spear, I don't really know.'

'Thank you.'

Amerotke dismissed both him and Tetiky and walked back into the chapel.

'Well?' he asked, resuming his seat.

'Do we have your solemn oath?' Khety demanded.

'You do, but I need the Glory of Anubis and a full confession.'

Khety nodded at Ita.

'I need to collect something,' she said.

Amerotke allowed her to go and sat waiting for her to return. She came back carrying a small leather sack covered in dirt and mud.

'You buried it in the garden?' Amerotke demanded.

She nodded, undid the cord and drew out the beautiful amethyst in the shape of a large egg. Shufoy whistled at the brilliant beauty of the stone. Amerotke held it up against the torchlight: turning and twisting it, he noticed how, in the centre of the stone, the grains formed the head of a dog or a jackal. He examined the amethyst carefully: it was unmarked. Amerotke placed it by his chair.

'And your confession?'

'We were happy enough here,' Khety began. 'I earned considerable money from mortuary fees. I met Ita. Nemrath was always pestering her.' He rubbed his eyes and stared wearily. 'A humdrum life, my lord, until one day I was in my bedchamber.'

'When was this?'

'Oh, some days ago. Perhaps ten, fourteen, just after the Mitanni arrived. I don't know who the person was. Sometimes he called himself Weni, sometimes Mensu...'

'Mensu!' Amerotke exclaimed. 'But that's one of the Mitanni envoys.'

'I know, I know. I don't know whether my visitor was male or female. Sometimes the voice was muffled, sometimes clear, sometimes high, sometimes low.'

Khety scratched his brow.

'At one time I thought it really was Weni, then he was killed and somone else came who seemed to know everything, so I wondered, was it Weni in the first place? Anyway, my first mysterious visitor claimed I could become rich beyond my wildest dreams if I stole the Glory of Anubis. Of course, I replied that was foolish, no one could do it. A huge sum was mentioned, so much gold and silver.' Khety shook his head. 'I've never heard the likes of it. I replied that I needed to discuss it with Ita. My visitor was reluctant but agreed. On a return visit, I told this mysterious messenger that we would do it but we'd have to bring Tetiky or Nemrath into the conspiracy. I was told not to be a fool.'

'I came up with a plan.' Ita spoke up defiantly. 'Now, we have your word, my lord?' She paused. 'Nemrath was as lecherous as a goat. He'd always be whispering bawdy things to me but he was frightened of Khety. I told him Khety didn't mind. How he enjoyed the idea of sharing me with Nemrath. The fat fool believed this. Never once did we mention the Glory of Anubis. Nemrath paid and the rest is as you said.'

'Weren't you frightened of the guard?'

'Tetiky is like any soldier, no break to a set routine. The night we stole the amethyst, everything went according to plan. The only thing I was frightened of was this apparition, rumours about Anubis being seen walking the temple.'

'Did you believe them?' Amerotke asked.

'I don't believe gods walk.' She smirked. 'I don't believe in anything, my lord Amerotke.' Her eyes were hard. 'When you work in a temple with priests...' Her voice trailed off. 'I killed Nemrath. He deserved to die, he pestered me. I took the amethyst.'

'Why didn't you hand it over immediately?'

'Our visitor returned,' Khety explained. 'He told us to hold it. He would come back. We were visited again after Weni had been killed. By then I was totally confused. I suspected it was going to be handed over to the Mitanni: we were to hold it in case something went wrong.'

'So, your visitor could not have been Weni?'

'It could have been anyone. Man or woman, I don't know.'

'And there's nothing more you can tell me?'

'My lord?'

Amerotke glanced at Ita.

'We are to be turned out like criminals in our robes and sandals?'

'Well, that's what you are,' Shufoy declared.

'You have your life and your health, not to mention your freedom.'

'We can take some silver with us?' She held her hand up, bowing her head. 'My lord, I have information which may interest you: the dancing girl, the heset who was murdered in the garden pavilion?'

'You may take a little silver with you,' Amerotke replied.

'I knew her vaguely. On the afternoon before she died, she told me the Mitanni, I am sure she said that, had hired her to dance.'

'The Mitanni?'

'My lord, that's all she said...'

Amerotke picked up the sacred amethyst and weighed it carefully in his hands.

'You must be out of Thebes by noon tomorrow. What you take with you is a matter for you. If you return, you will be executed. Now be gone!'

They both fled the room. Shufoy went across and closed the door behind them.

'You pounce like a mongoose, my lord.'

'No, I don't.' Amerotke glanced down at the amethyst. 'But I tell you this, Shufoy, tomorrow morning I am going to trap a murderer. I have no more proof than I had with Khety and Ita. May the goddess Ma'at help me!'

Anubis carried out his judgement in the presence of Horus, Osiris, Isis and Nephthys.


Toreb, bodyservant to the Mitanni envoy, Lord Hunro, was deeply anxious. He had seen Amerotke, the Pharaoh's chief judge, arrive in the temple. Like all servants who acted as spies, Toreb wished to inform his master as soon as possible. Toreb had crept along and watched Amerotke being taken to the chapel where the sacred amethyst had been stolen. He'd tried to listen, to learn what had happened, but this time the guards would not be bribed. He was ordered away with surly looks and muttered curses. Nevertheless, Toreb was pleased.

'My master will pay me well,' he gloated.

Lord Hunro did not like the lady Wanef and was eager to collect information for himself. He and Mensu were always in close consultation, heads together. Now and again his master would betray his true feelings.

'I don't like being here,' Hunro moaned, cradling a goblet of wine. 'I'd prefer my lips to blister and my knees to swell rather than kiss the feet of the stonemason's bitch!'

Toreb sighed as he padded along the empty corridor: that was the way of the world! The great Mitanni chieftains wanted war but King Tushratta was intent on peace. There was no going back now. The Mitanni party had returned to Thebes with strict instructions: the treaty would be sealed. Hadn't Benia's sarcophagus arrived at the temple ready for transport out to the Oasis of Palms? Yet there were other matters. Had his master, the lady Wanef and others been involved in the theft of the sacred amethyst? Toreb couldn't say yea or nay, though when they were alone, the Mitanni envoys did chuckle at Pharaoh's discomfiture. However, these smiles soon disappeared. On one matter they were all agreed: Chief Judge Amerotke was a dangerous man and had to be watched. There had been fierce discussion about what they had passed in the desert. The lady Wanef had certainly been disappointed to learn that Amerotke had suffered an accident but survived to continue his snooping.

Toreb stopped at the corner and stared up at the great statue of the jackal god. Darkness had fallen and the torches in their niches along the walls made the place more ghostly, more threatening with flickering shadows, those paintings of war springing vividly to life. Toreb looked over his shoulder. The temple passageway was dappled in a strange light from both the torches and the silver-grey glow of a full moon. He didn't like it here. He left by a side door and crossed the gardens. On one thing Toreb was certain: the Egyptians knew how to create a paradise. The gardens were fragrant with their shady cypress trees, lofty sycamores and sweet-smelling vineyards. The breeze carried the sound of the yapping of the sacred pack, now much depleted. Toreb shivered. Surely the dogs would not be allowed to escape again? And Lord Hunro and Lord Mensu did like these gardens. Now, where was their favourite spot? Ah yes, an exquisite ornamental pool where bullrushes grew and lotus floated on the surface. Toreb recalled directions and trotted through the darkness. He reached the pool lit by three braziers along the edge. Someone had definitely been there: a tray of jugs and cups lay on the ground.

'My lord Hunro!' he called.

He stared round. Something was wrong. He glanced down at the water and stood rigid with shock. No illusion, no mistake! Two corpses floated, faces down amongst the lotus pads. Lord Hunro and Lord Mensu, their robes billowing about them. A night jar screeched, shattering the deathly silence. Toreb took one more look and ran screaming into the darkness.

Amerotke and Shufoy were on the point of leaving the temple when the alarm was raised. A sleepy-eyed servant stopped them at the gate.

'The high priest,' he demanded, 'needs your presence. I also have to warn Lord Senenmut.'

Shufoy was amazed at his master's reaction.

'I thought as much,' the judge murmured. He sighed. 'But that's the way things must be.'

'Master?'

'Nothing, Shufoy. Let's see this bloody mayhem for ourselves.'

By the time they reached the pool, a crowd of servants, soldiers and priests carrying torches and lamps had gathered round it. The two corpses had been pulled out and laid sprawling on the side like dead fish. The physician from the House of Life was already examining them. Amerotke searched out the lady Wanef. She stood, surrounded by servants, staring down at the corpses. She glanced up as Amerotke approached.

'Is this how Egypt treats the envoys of the King?'

Amerotke stared back.

'Well?' Wanef insisted.

Amerotke tapped the pectoral on his chest.

'This is our symbol of truth, Lady Wanef.'

He lifted the leather satchel he carried and, opening it, allowed her to glimpse the sacred amethyst glowing there. The judge enjoyed Wanef's discomfiture: her jaw dropped.

'Aren't you pleased, my lady,' Amerotke whispered, covering the sacred amethyst, 'that the truth is out?'

'What is this? What is this?' The high priest, a sleeping robe round his shoulders, hurried over. 'Lord Amerotke? Is it true?'

'It is true.' Amerotke cut him off. 'The Glory of Anubis has been found, the perpetrators unmasked. No.' He lifted a hand. 'My task is to inform the Divine Hatusu and Lord Senenmut. The chapel will be reconsecrated.' He glanced slyly at Wanef. 'Divine Pharaoh must show all how she enjoys the pleasure of the gods: her wisdom, her devotion have led to the discovery of this sacred stone. She herself will place it back in the care of the god Anubis.'

The high priest couldn't argue with that. Torn between pleasure and desire to hold the sacred amethyst, he drew a deep breath and nodded.

'Of course, of course,' he murmured. 'But now these deaths?'

Wanef was about to launch into another tirade. Amerotke turned his back on her and went to kneel beside the physician.

'As before?' Amerotke asked.

'As before, my lord: no marks on the corpses. No obvious cause of death.' He pointed to the tray of cups and jugs. 'My servants have already examined those: there is no poison.'

Amerotke stared up at the starlit sky. Time was passing. He told Shufoy to send a servant to Lady Norfret.

'We will not be returning home tonight,' he declared. He drew the physician close. 'I want you to search the corpses carefully. Look for a small puncture mark, anything. You might find it in the same place on each corpse.'

Amerotke gestured towards the seat.

'I suspect they were sitting close.' He pointed to the bushes behind. 'The killer probably struck from there, so the puncture mark should be high, in the back of the neck, certainly no lower than their shoulder blades. They were probably killed whilst sitting and fell forward.' He pointed to the light bruising on the faces of both men. 'Their killer then tossed both into the water.'

'Why would he do that?'

'To cover what he used to kill them. Undress the corpses carefully,' Amerotke continued in a whisper. 'Hang their robes up and you will also discover a small puncture mark, like that caused by a needle, high in each garment.'

'You know how these men were killed, don't you?'

'Yes, I think so. Now I must trap their killer.'

Amerotke, accompanied by a mystified Shufoy, went over and demanded lodgings from the high priest. This was readily agreed. Once they were in the chamber provided, Amerotke shuttered the windows, bolted the door and piled up the furniture against it.

'Master, what is the matter?'

'We are in danger, Shufoy, from a hideous killer. One who would like to make a clean sweep, finish the task in hand.'

'Won't you tell me?' Shufoy glanced at his master, who now lay on the narrow bed.

'No, I am too tired and I might be wrong. Tomorrow morning, Shufoy, wake me before dawn. I want to be out of this temple and down to the House of a Million Years.'

And rolling over on his side, Amerotke went to sleep.

The night passed without incident. Just before daylight Amerotke and Shufoy washed, cleaned themselves and hastily left the temple. Shufoy had never seen his master leave any place so quietly, as if fearful of being trapped. On the road outside, they met a squadron of soldiers marching up to the city gates. Amerotke, using all the authority he could muster, demanded their protection as an escort down to the royal palace near the great mooring place on the Nile. Once they were through the soaring pylons and into the royal gardens, Amerotke relaxed. The soldiers were dismissed and he gave Shufoy an errand to do in the city. The little man protested.

'I am hungry, Master, and I didn't sleep very well. I am very worried about Belet.'

'You can feed your face in the marketplace.' Amerotke smiled, crouching down. 'Perhaps you can make enquiries for your friend. You know what to do. Speak to your acquaintances, the herbalists and scorpion men, then come back here. I'll be waiting in one of the antechambers or out in the chariot park. If you meet Prenhoe, don't tell him what's happening. Or when I return home I'll be presented with his list of dreams.'

Shufoy waddled off. Amerotke asked a servant to take him to the chariot park. The stables were a hive of activity: horses being led in and out, groomed and fed, ready for pasture or being hitched between shafts. Soldiers and their drivers sat around breaking their fast. A Master of Horse approached.

'My lord?'

'Do you miss Hathor and Isis?'

'Beautiful horses, my lord.'

'Tell me.' Amerotke pointed to a squadron of the chariots. 'They are hitched and ready to leave?'

'Of course, my lord, they are going out to patrol the Red Lands. Some merchants have complained about marauding Libyan bandits.'

Amerotke walked over and, whilst the mystified Master of Horse watched, climbed in and out of a chariot. He then asked a charioteer to check the horses' forelegs and reins, absent-mindedly thanked him and wandered into the palace.

Chamberlains and servants, the Keeper of the Royal Diadem, the Custodian of the Royal Fan, the Holder of Pharaoh's Perfume, were all hurrying down the galleries and corridors towards the House of Adoration, Hatusu's personal quarters. A chamberlain promised that the Divine Hatusu and Lord Senenmut would be told of his arrival and solemnly agreed to convey the lord Amerotke's message to them. Amerotke had to sit and kick his heels for about an hour, fascinated by the stream of servants who processed solemnly in and out of the House of Adoration. Servants carrying robes over their arms and trays of jewels, amulets, earrings and bracelets. The Keeper of the Royal Slippers, barbers, masseurs, perfume-holders. Amerotke hid his smile. Hatusu, if she wished, could act the coy, simple girl or the foul-mouthed virago, and, in the twinkling of an eye, assume all the greatness and majesty of Pharaoh. Sometimes she dressed like a girl hurrying out to the market; other times the true incarnation of the Divine One. On occasions she loved the fuss and protocol of court; on others, she openly mocked it.

'Ever-changing,' Amerotke murmured. 'Like the moon.'

At last the antechamber fell silent. A unit of soldiers from the crack Vulture squadron took up position outside the doors under the command of an officer in full ceremonial uniform. These were the Nakhtu-aa, 'the strong-arm boys', the 'Maryannou' or braves of the king. They lived and died for Pharaoh and worshipped the ground Hatusu trod on. Amerotke was beginning to doze when the doors were thrown open and Senenmut came striding out.

'The Divine Hatusu is in a divine sulk!'

Amerotke grasped the leather bag more carefully.

'But I think,' Senenmut smiled, 'you are going to coax her out of it?'

Hatusu was indulging in the most imperial of sulks. She was in the small throne room, seated in the lion chair, hands grasping its arms, her feet resting on a footstool.

'My lord Amerotke. More deaths at Anubis!'

Amerotke knelt, forehead touching the ground. As he did so, he let the leather satchel open and the sacred amethyst rolled out. He heard a sharp intake of breath, a patter of sandals. Hatusu pinched him playfully on the arm.

'Enough of that, up you get!'

When he did, Hatusu had the Glory of Anubis in her hands, lifting it up like some champion would a prize.

'I am the first you've told?'

Amerotke quickly described what had happened. Hatusu kept walking up and down, her face wreathed in smiles. She didn't even bother to curse the two perpetrators.

'I am going to love it!' she exclaimed. 'I want to process through the Temple of Anubis holding this, to show those priests, everyone in Thebes, how the gods love and favour me!'

She sat down on her throne, still nursing the sacred amethyst.

'We are pleased with you, Amerotke. Sinuhe's manuscript? You have that safe?'

'In my house, my lady.'

'And the killer?'

'I think I know.'

'Sit down! Sit down!' Hatusu fluttered her fingers towards a stool. 'Sit on this.'

When Amerotke did so, Hatusu rose and squatted at his feet, ordering Senenmut to do likewise.

'There we are,' she teased. 'The teacher and his two pupils.'

Senenmut was also pleased. Amerotke could tell that by the way he kept tapping his hand against his knees. Amerotke sighed and, getting up, pushed away the stool and sat on the floor with them.

'You received my message?' he asked.

'Yes, yes, we did. And the answer is Tushratta wants peace but many of his council don't.'

'And the other matter?'

'I can't tell. But I've sent a chamberlain to find out.'

'We'll have the confrontation here,' Amerotke murmured. 'When Mareb arrives, let him sit with us. My lord Senenmut, I would like you to make sure that he is not armed.'

Senenmut raised his eyebrows, got to his feet and walked to the door. Hatusu's mood had changed. Her face had grown severe. She was biting her lower lip, a constant mannerism when annoyed. Senenmut had hardly returned when they heard the knock on the door. A chamberlain stepped through and announced that Mareb was waiting. He looked rather surprised at the way Pharaoh, her vizier and chief judge were sitting, but Hatusu made an imperious movement with her hand.

'Our herald is to present himself. Tell the captain of the guard to ensure that he is searched from neck to crotch.'

The chamberlain withdrew. A short while later Mareb slipped through the door, his hair freshly oiled, face clean-shaven. Amerotke recalled the herald out in the Red Lands and steeled himself against any compassion. Mareb was an assassin, a man responsible for many deaths. The herald didn't know what to do but stood moving from foot to foot.

'Sit down, man!' Hatusu ordered. 'Here, complete the circle.'

Mareb, caught between protocol and the desire to please, nervously obeyed.

'My lady?'

'My lady nothing!' she snapped. 'My lord Amerotke has summoned you here!'

'You know,' Amerotke began, 'I have Sinuhe's maps.'

He gestured towards the throne where Hatusu had left the Glory of Anubis. The herald glanced at this. For a brief moment Amerotke glimpsed his surprise and consternation.

'Khety and Ita are in disgrace,' Amerotke murmured. 'They have been exiled from Thebes.'

'I am glad, my lord.'

'No you're not. You are worried, you are fearful and you have good reason to be. You are the Anubis killer. Mareb, you own a pair of war sandals, a black leather kilt, a cloak, a jackal-headed mask. You are responsible for the murders of Weni, Sinuhe, the three Mitanni envoys, the dancing girl. You also tried to kill me out in the Red Lands but it went hideously wrong.'

Mareb would have jumped to his feet but Amerotke grasped his wrist and squeezed hard.

'You are here in the presence of a god, Mareb. Divine Pharaoh will carry out justice.'

Mareb opened and closed his mouth.

'Let's begin with the office you hold,' Amerotke continued. 'You and Weni were pages, as was Hordeth, your good friend. You trained at the court of Tuthmosis, Divine Pharaoh's father. Afterwards, all three of you entered the House of Envoys. You were proud of your position, as probably were your father and elder brother. You did well in the academy, particularly in the study of tongues and the customs of those who live beyond Egypt's borders. You became a herald. First with Hordeth and then with Weni. It is a custom of the Egyptian court always to send two heralds to a foreign prince.'

'Hordeth? I told you, I hardly knew him.'

'No, that's the lie that trapped you. Let me tell you the story,' Amerotke continued. 'Years ago, during the reign of Divine Tuthmosis, Weni, Hordeth and Mareb were pages in the royal household. They later entered the House of Envoys. In Tuthmosis I's tomb there is a wall painting of the royal pages. It shows them kneeling before Pharaoh. I noticed two, beside each other, hand in hand: Hordeth and Mareb.' Amerotke paused. 'I am sure if I asked the House of Records to be searched, they would discover that you and Hordeth were very close friends. Time passed. Weni married a Mitanni woman. Hordeth lusted after her and she responded. Weni became mad with anger. He suffocated his wife during a boating trip, then invited Hordeth to the ruined Temple of Bes, where he killed him.'

Mareb's eyes grew more anxious.

'He killed your best friend,' Amerotke said softly. 'Hordeth was your best friend?'

'Yes, he was, but I...'

Amerotke raised a hand for silence.

'Now, Weni, his wits turned, found the disposal of his adulterous wife and her lover quite pleasurable and easy. However, the murders were also witnessed by the Crocodile Man, one of those flotsam and jetsam who live along the Nile. To cut a long story short, Weni became known as the "Gardener", a professional assassin. Why? Possibly because he was being blackmailed by the Crocodile Man, but, overcome with grief and remorse at the loss of his wife, he was also intent on building a lavish tomb for her and himself out in the Necropolis.'

'Did you suspect Weni had killed your friend?' Senenmut asked.

'I think he may have done,' Amerotke intervened. 'But Mareb kept his suspicions to himself. Weni was also active as a herald. He became your companion, envoys to the Mitanni. Tushratta and Wanef soon recognised his venality. Weni was supposed to offer to spy for the Mitanni in Egypt. He probably did but they didn't truly trust him. They looked around for someone else.' Amerotke paused. 'I suppose Wanef and others carefully scrutinised Weni's life and found out about his hidden career. Other matters took over: last year Divine Pharaoh marched north. The Mitanni suffered a catastrophic defeat. Your brother and father were in her army. They weren't killed, were they, Mareb? They were taken captive and the Mitanni turned on you.'

Mareb's lower lip was trembling.

'What did they offer you, Mareb? Your father and brother's lives. Did they threaten to crucify them if you didn't co-operate? Did they offer you gold and silver? They also told you about Weni. How he was responsible for the death of your good friend Hordeth.' Amerotke spread his hands. 'Weni was a traitor. He'd sell to anyone. You were different.'

'Is it true?' Senenmut asked. 'Are your father and brother alive?'

'To me they are dead.' Mareb's voice was no more than a whisper. He suddenly looked haggard, losing the arrogance of his office and status.

'The Mitanni,' Amerotke continued, 'were forced to sign a peace treaty. They were compelled to come to Egypt. Tushratta may stay out at the Oasis of Palms but he is, in fact, begging for peace. To hide his shame, he wants to embarrass the Divine Hatusu as much as possible. He demands the return of his kinswoman's corpse. He's heard the rumours, which are not true, that Divine Hatusu's father killed her. The Mitanni are also great merchants. They've learnt about Sinuhe's manuscript and his maps. They want that. Above all, they want the Glory of Anubis. When did they approach you?' Amerotke asked. 'When you arrived at their court?'

Mareb stared back.

'Weni was to be their cat's-paw whilst you really managed affairs. First, the Glory of Anubis. Weni is approached by you. He doesn't know who you are: all he must accept is that you speak on behalf of the Mitanni king. You coax him with a mixture of bribery and threats; more gold and silver and, if he doesn't agree, then public exposure, trial and execution. He's to buy knives from the Theban marketplace and be told exactly how the sacred amethyst will be stolen. Weni, in turn, passes this on to Khety and Ita. He is your link with that villainous pair: greedy as hungry fish, they rise to the bait. Nemrath is killed and the Glory of Anubis stolen. Weni is also murdered, so you now take over his visits to Khety and Ita, who are told to keep the amethyst. The Mitanni will not collect their prized possession until just before they leave the temple. As you can see, I now have it back.'

Mareb blinked. He'd recovered some of his composure.

'My lord Amerotke, I am pleased...'

'Sinuhe you treated differently,' the judge continued. 'You are a master of disguise, Mareb, with your long, slim legs and girlish face. You can pass for a woman or pretend to be a Mitanni. Was that your idea or Wanef's? I suspect it was yours, a little protection for yourself, muddying the waters still further. You approach Sinuhe as a Mitanni woman, displaying Tushratta's seal as proof of your credibility. You offer Sinuhe treasure beyond his wildest dreams. Nevertheless, frightened of prying eyes, you invite him to meet you at the Temple of Bes. Ironic, isn't it, that that's where Weni killed your friend?'

'I was pleased when you discovered his remains.' Mareb smiled. 'I did not know what to say that day.'

'No, you didn't, and, I suspect, you said little to Sinuhe. You met him in disguise, similar to that used round the Temple of Anubis: the black and gold jackal mask, the war kilt, the soldier's sandals. Anyway, Sinuhe is murdered, his manuscript is stolen and you again meet Weni. You gave him the manuscript for safe-keeping. Our greedy herald was only too willing to take it. You ordered him to hide it in a safe and secure place: what better than his gorgeous tomb out in the Necropolis? You must have been very pleased with yourself. You had the Glory of Anubis and you had Sinuhe's map. The Divine Hatusu might suspect the Mitanni had another spy in Thebes, one they called the Hyaena, but there was no real proof. You used Weni to protect yourself. If Khety and Ita broke down and confessed, if they were tortured, the only name they could give was Weni's, not yours.'

'My lord, I have listened to you.' Mareb spoke up. 'And what you are saying,' he pulled a face, 'is logical enough. But if what you allege is true, why should I kill Weni if I was using him? And how am I responsible for the deaths at the Temple of Anubis?'

'Oh, you hated Weni,' Amerotke replied. 'He deprived your friend of life and proper burial. You watched him like a hunting snake does a rat. You may have suspected Weni of murdering Hordeth: the Mitanni probably supplied the proof but ordered you to wait. You did. Weni was greedy, the key to his soul was gold and silver. He was under strict orders, but of course, he would do what he wanted. The Glory of Anubis and Sinuhe's maps were meant for the Mitanni court but Weni opened private negotiations with Libyans, Nubians and, for all I know, Kushites and others. He was going to sell the Glory of Anubis and Sinuhe's maps to the highest bidder, so it was time for him to pay for his treachery and his greed. No swift death followed by honourable burial. No, Weni would die like Hordeth, and, like Hordeth, his corpse would be polluted and abused. You invited him down to the gardens.'

'I was asleep that night. I can produce witnesses...!'

Amerotke shook his head.

'You are an energetic young man, Mareb. I saw that out in the Red Lands. You were lying on your bed, cloaked and ready. Weni left through the door, you left through your window. You lured him towards the dog pit. The guard was killed, the gate opened and a trail of blood left to whet the pack's appetite. In any temple, after the sacrifices, blood is more plentiful than wine. Weni was killed barbarously, fitting revenge for Hordeth, and an end to his greed, treachery and venality. Weni's removal caused you no problems. The sacred amethyst was taken and Sinuhe's manuscript was safe in Weni's tomb. You could always go across there, under the pretence of paying your last respects, and remove the manuscript.'

Amerotke leaned forward and tapped the herald on the knee.

'What were you going to do, Mareb? Stay in Egypt or flee to the Mitanni? Ah, well!'

Ignoring protocol, Amerotke got to his feet and walked to a window overlooking the royal gardens.

'If you had your way, Mareb, I wouldn't be staying here, would I? My bones would litter the Red Lands: that's the other proof I have.'

'You can't say that.'

Mareb would have jumped to his feet but Senenmut had risen. He crossed to the herald and pressed him back down. Hatusu, as if aware of the danger, went across to her throne. She did not sit like a Pharaoh-Queen, just an ordinary young woman listening to a story which shocked and intrigued her. Amerotke, however, knew her mood. Once she was certain of Mareb's guilt, she would show her fury, that passionate hot temper of which even the lord Senenmut was wary.

'You'd been watching me,' Amerotke continued. 'Was it Wanef's idea or yours for the Mitanni envoys to go back to the Oasis of Palms? They didn't really have to consult! Whatever happened at the Temple of Anubis, they still had to sign that treaty. It was a pretext to lure me out as well as an opportunity to give you fresh instructions and encouragement.'

'But how did they know you'd go?' Mareb pleaded.

'Silence!' Hatusu straightened up. 'Silence your lying tongue!'

She sat back on the throne, elbows resting on its arms.

'They asked for you, my lord Amerotke, and they specifically asked for Mareb. They said it would flatter Tushratta, whilst that letter...'

'Oh yes, the famous letter.' Amerotke walked forward. 'They'd planned for that to be intercepted. They wanted to bait the Divine Hatusu, push all the blame on to Weni and depict Mareb as someone they didn't like. When we reached the Oasis of Palms they continued the pretence. Our visit had one main purpose: to kill me.' Amerotke straightened his wrist guard. 'All pretence,' he whispered. 'Like the attack on you in my chamber. Wanef arranged that to deflect suspicion. I suspect she didn't even tell you: it was all preparation for what would happen out in the Red Lands.'

'That's ridiculous!' Mareb exclaimed, now visibly agitated.

'No, it's not. When I visited the oasis I met the dwarf Nubians; Tushratta calls them his "little people". I found reference to them in two other places: first, the tomb of the Divine Tuthmosis I. He, too, had met these people: his funeral artist depicted them as carrying small blow-pipes which shot poisonous darts. Sinuhe also repeated the description. Shufoy is now out in the marketplace seeking confirmation. The Mitanni gave you a blow-pipe and poisoned darts, didn't they? According to Sinuhe, the wound these inflict is no bigger than a pinprick, yet the poison they carry is deadly. It can paralyse and kill in a very short time.'

He watched the colour drain from Mareb's face. You are trapped, Amerotke thought. Despite what he knew, the judge felt a pang of compassion at the stricken look in the herald's eyes.

'I was to die out in the Red Lands,' Amerotke continued. 'There was nothing wrong with those two splendid horses or the chariot, but a skilled driver like you can make it look as if there was. I got down, at your request, and went round to check the horses. You carried that blow-pipe in your white wand of office. In reality it is a hollow tube. When the two ends are taken off...' Amerotke spread his hands. 'I don't really know whether it's the actual blow-pipe or just contains it. Sinuhe writes how a trained warrior can loose a dart in a few heartbeats. I was kneeling down, distracted. Do you remember? Examining the Pride of Hathor's hooves? Perhaps you were hasty or nervous. But you missed. The dart hit Hathor on the left side. In her death throes, Isis, too, was injured.'

Amerotke returned and sat down.

'Two beautiful horses, the pride of the gods, killed because of you!'

'I couldn't have done that,' Mareb murmured. 'You would have seen me.'

Amerotke brought his hand to his mouth and blew, imitating the action of a soldier shooting a blow-pipe.

'Sinuhe claims it takes a matter of heartbeats and, close up, is very accurate. I was to die. You'd remove the dart and struggle back to Thebes with whatever story you'd concoct.'

'But you would have seen the mark on the horse.'

'No, no, I wouldn't. I understand the darts are half the size of my little finger. Hathor fell on her left side.' Amerotke glared at the herald. 'You know what happened next?'

'You have no proof.'

'That's where you are wrong.' Amerotke kept his eyes and voice steady. 'My lord Senenmut,' he lied, 'sent out a chariot squadron to thoroughly search the area. One lion died of the poison, and searching amongst the bones and debris, the captain found a poisoned dart. He had seen them before.'

'That's a lie!' Mareb snarled. 'I was...!'

'You were told what?' Amerotke finished the sentence. 'Are you going to say that the lady Wanef secretly assured you there was no sign of your murderous assault? After all, she would have taken the same route into Thebes as we did.'

Mareb just bit his lip.

'Only the lady Ma'at,' Amerotke continued, 'knows the truth, but that was one attack which went terribly wrong. You might have been tempted to finish your bloody work, but out in the Red Lands, with snarling lions and hyaenas around, two is better than one. You probably burnt your deadly weapon in that ring of fire. We survived and returned to Thebes.'

'Are you going to allege I also murdered the Mitanni envoys?' Mareb demanded.

'Of course you did! Tushratta called them "jackals"!'

'But what am I then?' Mareb retorted. 'Friend or foe?'

Amerotke was about to answer but a knock on the door silenced him. A chamberlain came in and announced that messengers had arrived for Lord Amerotke. The judge asked the chamberlain to bring in the captain of the guard. When Amerotke went out, both the physician and Shufoy were waiting.

'As you say, my lord,' the physician declared, 'the Mitanni envoys were dead before they were ever placed in the sacred pool. I found small pinpricks high in their backs, and when I examined their clothes, small holes tinged with blood. The same cause of death as the others, some kind of potion which stiffens the muscles and stops the heart. Both of them died quickly. It was a poisoned dart, wasn't it?'

Amerotke agreed. 'And you, Shufoy?'

The little man opened his hand to display a small feathered dart, no bigger than an inch long. The feathers were minute, probably goose-quill; the stem was of fine wood and its point sharp as a needle.

'Would a dart like this inflict such wounds?'

'Yes, my lord.'

'And the poison?'

The physician pointed to the tip.

'I have heard of these darts. They are soaked in poison more deadly than any cobra or viper bite. A mere drop can kill a man.'

'That's what the merchant who sold them told me,' Shufoy declared.

He handed across a small black tube, hollowed out at both ends. Amerotke held this up and squinted down: the wood inside was carefully carved and fluted.

'I will show you,' Shufoy offered.

At first he fumbled, but at last all was ready. The small dart was placed in the mouthpiece, Shufoy aimed this at a statue of a charging lion on the table. He blew, a mere sigh, and the dart left the pipe as swiftly as an arrow would a bow, narrowly missing the lion.

'A little more practice,' Shufoy declared mournfully. 'Master,' he added, 'I have made careful enquiries throughout Thebes. No one knows anything about Belet and Seli but an acquaintance of mine, a scorpion man, talks of dromedaries and pack animals being bought.'

'I cannot deal with this,' Amerotke replied tersely. 'Shufoy, I'm sorry, but it must wait.'

And turning on his heel, the judge returned to Pharaoh's throne-room.

Anubis gave entrance to the afterlife to the souls of the deceased who passed the test.