Chapter Ten
Cry of the Hunter

Thebes, 1068 B.C

As if the Gods themselves had deemed it proper and right, the first rays of the sun fell on the great city of Thebes, City of the Living, Crown Jewel of Pharaoh Seti I, just as the right arm of Seti I, his son Rameses and his reduced entourage, crested the low hill that afforded them some of them their first glimpse of the city for a long time, and others their first glimpse ever.

Keeahn sat with some of the wounded soldiers in the back of a cart, someway behind the golden chariots of Akehton and Rameses. He aided one man to sit up and look at the city of his birth, while he himself craned to see this place that seemed to inspire the very spirits of the men around them when they spoke of it.

Just as the sun set rapidly here, so it rose rapidly, and the arms of Ra spread quickly over the earth in a warm embrace, spreading it's orange light over the huge temples, columns, obelisks and palaces of the sprawling city of Thebes. Keeahn felt his jaw drop.

Giza had been a shock to the system, the size, the population, the great pyramidal tombs of kings had had him in a daze. But most of his time had been spent in the gutter or hole, digging or else chained in a dank holding cell. He had never seen it in it's entirety. But even if he had, he was sure it would not have compared to what he was looking at right now.

Never in his life had he dreamed that such a city was possible. Tucked into a bend in the Nile, this city of Thebes, gleamed like gold in the early morning sun, it's huge buildings towering like mountains hundreds of feet in the air. Even from here he could see huge market places, courtyards and avenues that were spread across the city, and the hundreds of houses the were located within the massive city walls. Thousands upon thousands must have lived inside their safe protection.

The man he helped to sit up, was the Medjai whose life he had saved, and who he had gotten to know better over the past day or so of journeying. In Sekhnet's absence he had helped him with his speech and told him more stories of this land. The man, Khunahk, grinned up at the young man's awe.

"Big, hmm?" he smiled. Keeahn swallowed and looked down his eyes wide.

"Big." He agreed.

The journey into the city was no let down. After they were observed approaching and met by a hurriedly assembled guard of honour, who weren't expecting them for another day and a half, they were escorted through the city. He was swamped with sights, great marble floored piazzas, peppered with trees and reflecting pools. Massive obelisks elaborately carved with figures telling stories he could not read. Even bigger statues, of men and animal headed Gods towered over them, The buildings with their highly decorated facades were as impressive close up as they were from a distance, and the people prosperous and healthy.

They passed through a huge set of gates out into one of the massive courtyards he had seen from a distance. The entire courtyard was covered in marble and gleamed white in the early morning. Across the courtyard a huge set of steps maybe 20 metres wide, also marble swept up into a huge colonnaded palace build from red sandstone and inlaid with carvings that were highlighted in gold.

There was more wealth in this one courtyard than he had ever knew existed.

Half way across the courtyard the entourage divided. The chariots both golden and otherwise continued on to the steps of the great palace entrance, while all but one of the carts and pack animals carrying the soldiers, servants, slaves and goods veered off, heading for what was an impressive looking black gateway that would have been the pride of many a building but here simply looked like a side entrance

Rameses looked back over his shoulder, whispered something to his driver, and took the reins from him taking control of the chariot. The driver jumped out and raced over the courtyard towards the departing carts. He made his way up the chain till he reached the cart where Keeahn was seated.

"The Prince wants you there!" he pointed at the only remaining cart still with the royal entourage. Keeahn nodded, watched as the driver returned to his post, and then looked down at the wounded Khunahk.

"You will be well?" he asked solicitously.

"Yes, my friend." The Medjai smiled and stretched forth an arm. Keeahn, unsure of the protocol did the same, and the Medjai grasped it. "Go bask in the glow of the Pharaoh's light." He said, "Serve him well."

Keeahn nodded and smiled, though his smile was grim. A slave, even in a palace like this, though he live better than many a king at home, was still a slave. When he had served his time, he would leave this place and travel to the place he now knew as Syria to find the man who orchestrated his father's death and this slavery. "I will serve the Prince, as I have sworn." He qualified.

"And in serving him, you serve the Pharaoh, for the Prince is our King's mighty right arm." Khunahk explained. And then nodded towards the entourage. "Go, it is best not to keep Princes waiting I have found, " he looked around in an almost conspiratorial manner, then whispered. "They are generally long on demands and short on patience." He grinned. "I will see you again soon I am sure."

"I would be glad of it." Keeahn confessed, and clambered out of the cart. Khunahk looked over the side, as he departed.

"And when I am well again, if your duties allow. Seek me out, I will be happy to teach you the ways of our weapons!" he called.

"My thanks!" Keeahn smiled and waved, as he ran towards the palace steps that the entourage had almost reached. He skidded to a halt on the slippery marble surface right by the cart as the noble party reached their destination.

Several of the soldiers who had accompanied them from the gate, ran up the steps and into the palace beyond the colonnade. The senior servants who had remained with the party immediately began to give orders to their subordinates as to what should be done with the contents of the lone goods wagon that had followed them. Urns of exotic spices, perfumes and wines. Alabaster jugs, Ivory cases, chests of the finest ebony and cedar, inlaid with gold and jewels, and the gods alone knew what lay within them. Bolts of silk and linen and other cloths. Enough treasure to purchase every tuath in his land, and still live like a king. He moved rapidly out of the way to avoid being run over by the swarm of activity.

Rameses jumped out and with a laugh of delight grasped his brother Akehton who had a grin to match his own and cried. "Home!"

Akehton looked longingly up at the building's entrance and took a step forward, only to be restrained by his brother, who gave him an understanding look.

"Hold, for a moment or two more Akehton." He smiled. "You have waited this long to see her, a short while more won't kill you."

For once the true face of Akehton shone past the many masks he liked to wear, his smile was bittersweet. "I am not so sure, my brother." He said softly. Rameses nodded and clasped his brother by his shoulder.

Akehton, though he had covered it reasonably well, had pined all through the trip for his beloved wife. Married only a year, she was his only wife, and somehow Rameses doubted his brother would ever take another. Never had he seen love so change a man. Isephet, was a distant cousin, who had grown up with them in the palace, and Akehton had loved her ever since he'd first clapped eyes on her when she was 7 and he was 6.

Smaller and less robust than his fellow children, Akehton had always been the buffoon of the pack, and as he had grown had long convinced himself, despite his siblings encouragement, that she could never care for him the way he cared for her. As an adult he had taken to drinking and carousing, and taking so little care for himself that finally he grew ill. Isephet had helped nurse him back to health, letting him know of her strong disapproval of his behaviour, and eventually, of her feelings for him.

With Pharaoh's blessing they had married, and he had changed his ways, taking his responsibilities more seriously and drinking only in moderation, save for low points on this trip when he was missing her badly. Low points made worse by the fact that just before Pharaoh had decreed they should go on this trip, Isephet had told him she was pregnant with their first child. By their reckoning she would be due mere weeks after their return. It was no wonder Akehton wanted to dispense with formalities. But still, due to the severity of the situation, they must be observed.

A moment or two after the princes had dismounted, a stream of soldiers poured out from the colonnaded building. On their heads they wore the head dress of the Medjai, but were richly dressed, wearing black and gold winged breastplates and carrying spears that looked as if they were made of solid gold, and honour party. One among them, an older man, who exuded competence and efficiency carried a sword at his side and wore an ornate head dress, he approached Rameses and Akehton, then fell to one knee, crossed his arms across his chest and bowed his head.

It was done in such an elegant fluid movement, that Keeahn found himself unconsciously trying to mimic the elaborate tribute in his head, at least until he noticed one of his fellow slaves watching him bob vaguely up and down.

"My lord prince, Rameses." The man spoke without looking up "My lord Akehton."

"Zoser." Rameses acknowledged him congenially. The captain of the palace guard, and general of the armies of Egypt raised his head and awaited the signal to rise, which duly came.

"Forgive us, my lord prince." He apologised. "We did not expect you for another...."

"Day and a half. Yes." Rameses said. "But we were forced to return early. We were attacked."

"Attacked?!" Zoser snapped in alarm. "Where?"

"A day and half a nights straight ride from here. At the oasis of Puhrahm." Akheton informed him. "160 Syrian raiders."

"Raiders!" Zoser shook his head in disbelief, the idea of the Prince of Egypt being attacked in his own land by raiders who had not been caught, was unheard of. "But how..." he began, only to be silence by Rameses raised hand.

"Yes, good general, we have many questions too, but I think they would be best served if discussed in front of divine Pharaoh. I will request a war council with him, after he has received us and we are properly returned to our family." He assured him.

"Yes, my lord prince. Great Pharaoh has not yet been alerted to your presence, he sleeps still." He looked around "Is this all that survived, my lord prince? My lord Tuthmose?" he said with urgency.

"Awaits a detachment of your best men near the oasis while he guards the wounded. " Rameses ordered in an informal way. Zoser snapped to.

"At once my lord prince. They will leave with food, supplies and transport within the hour."
Without further word, Rameses moved rapidly into the collonaded building ahead of them, followed by his brother and their entourage. Walking through the chambers of the palace beyond, Rameses was quietly pleased with the reaction of those around him to the stranger in their midst. If the much travelled Zoser was surprised by Keeahn, then Nefertiri certainly would be. "General Zoser, this is my new servant, Keeahn. A bodyguard. Who has already proven his worth to us on the field of battle. He is of the tribes that inhabit the world far to the north of us. " his words were deliberately casual, almost blithe, as if men from half a world away were commonplace to him.

"He is....striking, my lord prince." The general observed uneasily. "As always my lord prince, you bring the most exotic and worthwhile acquisitions to the house of your esteemed father. I have never seen one of his size and colouring before.

""...his eyes..." a small wizened man in a plain red cloth robe, who had silently joined the small parade through the house, finally spoke, and then started, so surprised was he to find he has spoken aloud.

"Yes, fascinating aren't they, Tetmi?" Akehton said addressing the chief eunuch and head of the household's slaves. "Blue as the sky." He looked at the Celt. "Do the women in your land have such eyes, Keeahn?" he asked.

"Yes lord..." Keeahn answered staring at the huge vaulted ceilings and sheer marble walls they passed by, never having seen the likes of them before. "Blue. Green. Grey."

Akehton shook his head. "Incredible. I wonder if it would be worth mounting an expedition to bring some back...."

"Do you tire of your new wife already, brother?" Rameses teased.

"Hah. You are in no position to lecture me on that brother!" Akehton retorted. Rameses virility was already legendary around Egypt. He had 2 wives and 6 concubines, and to celebrate his return, would no doubt add to that number.

Rameses glanced back at the general. "He is to be a guard of the most precious thing in the world to me, and I would have him well schooled in all our ways of war. He is well schooled in his own, and you need only talk to your Medjai, lately returned with us to confirm his prowess. "

"It shall be done at your convenience, my lord prince." The soldier replied.

"Tetmi, you too shall aid me." Rameses commanded.

Tetmi, bowed low as he walked, no mean feat. "Whatever you desire, great lord."

"Sekhnet has been schooling him on our ways. And while I think he has a scholars interest in our new friend from the North, and will most likely continue to do so on his return with the others, it is not right that a man of his eminence spend so much time on the schooling of a servant. You shall teach him the ways of Pharaohs house, and life here. " he looked at Keaahn. "This is Tetmi, most loyal and trusted servant and chief eunuch of Pharaoh's house. The Pharaoh of the slaves if you will." He chuckled "Listen to him and he will teach you well." Keeahn looked at the tiny man, who walked beside him, and who in turn frowned at him, rapidly overcoming his temerity at the newcomers size and intent on establishing his dominance. "You will find him an apt pupil I think, Tetmi," Rameses spoke as if he knew what was going on behind him "though I would not attempt to beat him if I were you." His voice twinkled with unexpressed amusement.

"My wife?" Akehton asked eagerly of the little man, now that Rameses was finished with him.

"The other ladies are at their bath, lord," Tetmi replied "The lady Isephet remains in her chambers, sleeping." The corners of his mouth twitched, anticipating the next question. "Both she and the royal child she bears are well."

They walked on through the massive palace, and Keeahn returned to his awe struck scrutiny of the building, every surface seemed to be of some precious stone, metal or wood. The interior columns were sandstone heavily carved and inlaid with gold, the ceilings far above black with silver motifs and figures. The floors pale brown marble, the chambers lined with statues of the gods and famous men made from pure gold. As they moved through the chambers he could see through open doorways rooms of different hues, with curtains and wall hangings of silks and satins and other costly cloths. Furniture that had wing motifs and was invariably inlaid with gold or some form of precious jewel. Everything seemed worth a king's ransom, and every room was more impressive than the next.

Akehton could contain himself no longer, and as they came within sight of a great curved staircase that led to next floor of the palace. He slapped his brother on the back by way of farewell and bounded up the stairs 2 and 3 at a time, determined to have his sleeping bride awake in his arms.
After divesting themselves of their escort, Rameses, in his vast chambers allowed his servants to attend upon him, before sitting down to a light breakfast in his bed chamber, and looked up at the quietly standing Keeahn.

"Ah." He exclaimed. "I forgot." He indicated the table of food. "Eat, take your fill, and sit."

The prince ate the dates and grapes he had chosen as an appetiser thoughtfully, while watching his servant fill a plate with food, amused to see him take several of the honey cakes which had obviously become his favourites. Somewhat ill at ease, Keeahn looked around and took a plain chair about 10 feet away from the prince, and tried to eat his food as invisibly as possible. The full knowledge of the wealth and power of the people he was now bonded to had only truly come home to him in the last hour or so, and he felt more out of place than ever. The fact that the prince's eyes were firmly fixed on him didn't really help.

Rameses, poured himself some watered wine, specially prepared for breakfast in the royal household, and took a sip, before finally speaking again.

"There are people here" he announced "who would be appalled that a Prince should respect a slave." Keeahn swallowed his food hard, taken by surprise at the address. Rameses levelled a serious look at him, leaving him in no doubt that he meant what he said. "But I respect you, and your way of honour. Your father taught you well."

Putting his cup down, the prince stood up, and turned from him, walking towards the huge window and balcony that extended from his bedroom. "My father taught me well also. Taught me, that you should keep those you respect and trust close to you. It is a piece of advice I value. It has served me well. I don't trust easily, I am a prince after all, but there was something about you that had the ring of truth about you. So much so that I defied all my traditional practices and went with my instincts. And they were proved correct to me two days ago, when you saved my life and..." he hesitated. "...I would thank you for that."

Turning around quickly, the prince looked at him, as had become the norm recently Keeahn immediately went to avert his eyes.

"Face me." Rameses instructed quietly "Look upon me face to face, and speak freely, for a man who saves another's life surely has earned that much right. That is my gift to you, and so is this." He turned once more and walked towards a long ornate table by the side of the wall by the window, and opened a box, and pulled out a thin beaded collar from which hung a wrought metal cartouche. Walking towards Keeahn, Rameses handed it to him. "This is for you, in recognition of your great service to me already."

Keeahn looked from it back to the man who had given it to him, unsure as to what this meant.

"I told you when I first freed you from your death sentence that I could not set your blood price. You have always been in my safekeeping only, for you truly belong to another. And for that reason, I cannot set you free." Though he did not voice it, the still slave recognised the true regret in Rameses tone, and though perhaps it shouldn't have, he found it eased his disappointment a little to know that this man was working as best he could within the boundaries he was forced to walk and the ones he set himself. Tradition, duty and obligation.

"You may be still a slave, " he explained "But I have tried to temper it as best I can, by giving you the necklet." He pointed to it "If you wear that, people will know that you are held in my great esteem. With it, you are my emissary and my right arm."

Keeahn looked at it again, and, then measured his words.

"I thank you, my prince. It is a great honour for so short a time." The man before him though was no fool and could hear the unasked question in his voice.

"But....?" He encouraged, drawing out the man. "Remember I have granted you free speech in my presence."

Keeahn nodded "How can I be your right arm, if I belong to another?" he asked bluntly. Rameses's smile finally appeared. He really did like this man.

"It is not so much that I am chopping off my right arm," he said poetically "As I am placing it protectively around my most precious treasure." Keeahn didn't look any the wiser, and Rameses ended his cryptic speech and explained to him in plain language his future role as the guardian of the next Queen of Egypt.

When he was finished Keeahn blinked, and wondering if his grasp of the language had let him down. His confusion showed on his face.

There was a long pause before he spoke. "Forgive me, my prince, but.....the princess is your sister...."
He struggled not with words but with a concept.

Rameses understood. "I see...no one explained to you, did they?" Keeahn shook his head. Rameses returned to his seat by the table, sat, and picked up his wine cup once more.

"You know that Pharaoh is a living god, yes? Well the blood line of a god cannot be polluted with that of a lesser mortal if it an be helped. As Pharaoh it is our tradition to marry as closely within the bloodline as we can and produce our heirs that are of the true divine line. My father had no sister, and so he married my mother, his uncles daughter. She bore me, and some years later to my fathers great delight she bore Nefertiri. As my full sister, she is of the line, and is destined to be Queen of Egypt and reign at my side."

"Our children will be strong in the bloodline, and great rulers of Egypt." He determined happily "I have known that for a long time. Nefertiri, is the heart of my heart, I have loved her since we were children and will love her always. She is Egypt incarnate and she gives me strength, just as the Nile gives the parched earth rejuvenating life."

Keeahn watched Rameses as he spoke, it was the most adamant he had ever seen him. But it was a strange and somewhat unsettling concept. If it was true that the Pharaoh's were living god's then what he said made some kind of sense. Still, he could never see himself settling down with any of his sisters. They were all tougher than he was.

In the end though it didn't matter, he would serve her on her brother's behalf and earn his freedom just the same, fulfilling his honour bond and leave them to their strange unsettling ways. He answered the prince with one of the many statements Sekhnet had taught him. "It is a great honour you bestow on me, I will do as you ask, even though it cost me my life."

Rameses raised an eyebrow. "Hopefully for my sisters sake and your own, it will not cost you your life, my honourable servant and friend," the last word caught Keeahn by surprise, and it showed. "Be assured this change will not cost you your chance of freedom." He told him firmly "I will explain to my sister your ways. She is open to such things, and if she deems your service worthy of your blood price she will free you as I would. If she does not and I deem you have done enough, and am Pharaoh. I will free you, and more. You have my word.."

The Prince lightly popped a date into his mouth and grinned. "We should be getting ready, Keeahn. I must meet my father and King, you must prepare to meet your new mistress."
Dawn had also broken over the oasis of Puhrahm, and in the early morning sunshine Tuthmose walked some way away from the camp trying to get away from the stench of death that had surrounded them for the past 2 days. The priests and physicians who had remained to tend the wounded had taken to burning precious incense in the tents of the company so that all might be able to sleep.

The men had buried the Syrian dead, in shallow graves without ceremony, after he had checked them all for further hints as to what might have been behind all this. But their own dead had provided them with a problem. Custom demanded that their bodies be returned to their families for embalming, or at least that the proper rituals might be observed so that they might be able to guard their souls in the afterlife. But the desert sun was no friend to a corpse and the smell of their fallen comrades drifted on the wind, even covered and protected as they were. Already, in the new day, the vultures were gathering to begin their endless circle above the carrion they desired.

The young prince clambered to the top of a small dune and sat there, staring out at the light and shadow that was the red desert at it's most beautiful. Fishing into the pocket of his robe, he pulled out the thick bronze medallion of Set he'd dropped into it almost 2 full days previously. The thorough searches of the enemies broken bodies had revealed nothing more. Staring at the silver on bronze image of Set, he shook his head.

He'd been so sure there was more to this than meets the eye, but had been wrong apparently. Nothing existed to indicate that this raid was anything more than an audacious attempt at murdering three members of the royal family. Maybe he'd been too long away from home, his imagination was beginning to get the better of him.

A sharp cry attracted his attention and he raised his head towards the sky, expecting to see yet another vulture but instead saw the dark outline of a falcon circling above him standing out against the blue sky.

Relieved to see something in the sky other than the symbol of death that was the vulture, he watched the falcon as it swooped and soared, his fingers idly tracing the raised image of Set on the medallion.

Then he heard the click.

The medallion moved in his hand. Looking down in surprise he saw that it had sprung in half like a split peach. No, not in half, in thirds. Picking it out of the palm of his hand he brought it closer to his face to examine it.

What he had thought to be mere lines of decoration around the rim of the medallion, were in fact lines of separation, but the workmanship had been so expert that you never would have known unless you had been told. So well did the leaves of the medallion and the hinge that held them together merge that it had truly looked like it was one whole piece. Tentatively he opened these new leaves of the medallion wider.

On each one, there was writing. 4 pages of it in all. A book. Tiny but legible to a man with good eyesight and the ability to read. Tuthmose had both.

A thrill of excitement and trepidation went through him, even as the falcon above him sang out another cry. He knew there was more to this than had first been apparent and he knew without question that this would be the proof he needed to make believers of his doubting older cousins. He looked to the skies and smiled. The falcon was no accident. Horus was with him. He started to read.

By the time he had reached the 4th page his blood had run cold.

He was in the wrong place. The danger lay not out here, not from the Syrians, but in Thebes. In the very heart of the Thebes, Pharaoh's palace.

Tuthmose ran his finger over the surface of the medallion again, seeking the switch that had inadvertently revealed to him the danger that was unfolding in the bosom of the greatest empire in the world. A danger that was already setting in motion events that could rock that world to it's foundations. Finding the switch in the left ear of the image of the dog god, Tuthmose closed the medallion, confident that he could open it again when needs be, on his return to Thebes. A journey he would have to begin now, without his men. From on high the falcon screeched a piercing cry. The cry of the hunter.

Planting his feet and placing his free hand on the warm sand he went to push himself off the ground, and suddenly that sand started to froth and roil beneath his body.

Frantically, he pushed himself to his feet, but the violent boiling of the soft sand sank him knee deep into it.
Even as he struggled to free himself, he watched as the waves of the sand pulsed and flowed, their rippling effect becoming more and more evident, the red lines becoming darker and darker, changing.

Frightened to his very core, he screamed for help to the distant camp, his call echoing through the wastes. By the time it reached the ears of the first man to hear it, Tuthmose knew what awaited him.

Managing to wrench one leg free he unbalanced himself and pitched forward onto one knee, hands heading in the metamorphic sand. As they landed, the medallion fell from his fingers and tumbled down the face of the dune to the ground below. Where his hands fell, he felt not sand beneath his touch, but scales. All around him the sand heaved once more, and he realised now that it did so because it was alive. It had become alive.

Alive with serpents.

His terrified screams rang out even as the soldiers ran unseeing, towards the sound of his first shout for help. Swords drawn, they sprinted the distance to the dunes from where the shouts were emanating and clambered to the top. Looking down the first three of them recoiled, as they looked into the widened petrified eyes of the badly bitten and bleeding young prince, His mouth gaped silently, and he stared at them pleadingly for only a moment, before his eyes darkened and he pitched forward, dead, into the nest of desert snakes that surrounded him.

While soldiers and priests gathered and began hacking at the writhing mass trying to retrieve him from the den of snakes into which he had obviously inadvertently fallen, unseen below the medallion lay half buried in the ground, and far above the falcon wheeled and flew off low through the desert sky, it's cry adding to the desolation below.