City of the Dead

a household which had been divided between hope and despair for years now. Happy body servants told their wives, husbands and lovers — there was no interdict of secrecy from the king. Sorrow at the queen’s dead womb gave way to speculation about the royal child’s sex. The betting odds down in the harbour quarter settled cautiously in favour of a son, and the former scribe Huy put a golden piece down in the hope of a male child. The sunlight at long last seemed to move across the palace compound and settle on the king’s house instead of Horemheb’s. The general and his household made their congratulations, and the king formally commiserated with their misfortune. Both publicly accepted the will of the gods, and secretly made contingency plans.
    At first Tutankhamun was fearful that he had tempted the gods’ anger by premature celebration, but a second month passed and the linen wad was as free of dark blood as ever. The queen’s guard was doubled, and Horemheb’s special Medjays were banished from the precincts of the palace. The general wore a fixed expression, and was seen less in public. Ay, on the other hand, became a more frequent visitor to the king.

    By the third month, the pharaoh decided he had been away from the hunt long enough.
    ‘You must be careful.’ Ankhsenpaamun had never liked hunting. It was dangerous and bloody. The king was half a stranger for a hour after his return. Sometimes he was away for weeks.
    ‘Don’t worry.’
    ‘How long will you be gone?’
    ‘Three days at the most.’
    ‘And where will you go?’
    ‘Where the quarry lies.’
    ‘What will you hunt?’
    ‘It depends what we see. I want to fetch something special for you.’
    ‘Do not hunt lions,’ said the queen. She was fearful of the new, light chariot. It was faster, she knew, than many of the animals the king loved to chase, but she also knew that it overturned easily. If the king fell near a furious wounded animal like a lion, or, worse, a wild bull, he would die. Alone, she knew she would not be able to stand up to their enemies. Like her sisters, she would be condemned to a luxurious prison and an empty life. Or, worse, there was the threat of marriage to Ay.
    ‘Do not go unattended,’ she added. ‘Take many bowmen with you.’
    ‘Of course,’ the king reassured her. Privately, he had it in mind to hunt lion. His ancestor Nebmare Amenophis had bagged one hundred as a young man. It was his ambition to pass that record.

    He went to inspect his animals. His lean hunting dogs bounded to the gates of their pen to see him, jostling each other to put their great sand-running paws against the wooden crossbar, thrusting eager heads forward, red tongues flickering in open mouths, brown eyes keen, long tails wagging. He stroked their soft ears and cradled their pointed snouts.
    The cats, trained to retrieve fish and small game-birds, were more sedate, but they left off washing, and their ears became alert as they paced the limits of their pens, occasionally scrapping with one another. Nearby, his two cheetahs, captured young and trained for the chase by Nubian huntsmen, stretched and eyed him half watchfully, half expectantly. He paused to reprimand their beast-slave for not yet refreshing their water that day, then made his way to the far end of the vast cedar enclosure, to where his riding and chariot horses were corralled.
    These costly animals, the third generation to be bred in the south, were the king’s pride and joy. He adored their strength and their loyalty, and they were guarded with almost as great care as himself. He gave them slivers of honey cake, and real apples expensively imported from the lands to the north.
    ‘What game is there?’ he asked his chief huntsman.
    ‘Nearby, ibex, gazelle.Plenty of ibex, not half a day’s ride.’
    ‘I am interested in lions, Nehesy.’
    The man considered. ‘Not near. It is too dry now. Perhaps south of the First Cataract, or out by the Dakhla Oasis.’
    The king shook his head, disappointed. Both places were too far away. He thought of the half-promise he had given Ankhsi not to be absent longer. He wanted to bring her back trophies worthy of a king, knowing that the spirits of the animals would enter him, their vanquisher, and build his strength; but he was anxious too that she should not be alone too long. Since the Ahmose episode the king had not known whom to trust, and he had given orders to his personal guard that only blood relatives should be