Nefertu almost objected, but stopped himself before saying a word.

As we left the barracks and headed back toward our apartments I asked him, "Is there some problem with me being present at the parade ground tomorrow?"

He smiled his diplomat's smile. "Merely that the inspection will be at sunrise, and our meeting with Nekoptah is shortly afterward."

"I should be with the men when they are under inspection."

"Yes, I suppose that is right." But Nefertu did not seem overly happy about my decision.

We dined that evening in his apartment, a room about the same in size and decorations as my own. I got the feeling that Nefertu was delighted at his good fortune in finding us. It is not every day that a civil servant working in a small town far from the capital is invited to the royal palace and housed in such splendor.

Helen told her story to him and Mederuk, the official who had met us at the pier. She held them fascinated with her tale of the war between the Achaians and Trojans, and seemed quite proud to place herself at the center of it all.

Mederuk stared at her shamelessly all through the dinner. He was a man of middle age, his hair gray and thinning, his body overweight and soft. Like all the Egyptians, his skin was dark and his eyes almost black. He had a bland round face, virtually unlined, almost like a baby's. His life in the palace had left no traces of laughter or pain or anger on that chubby, insipid face. It was as if he carefully erased all evidence of experience each night and faced each new day with a freshly molded blankness that could not possibly offend anyone-nor give any hint of the thoughts going on behind that bland mask.

But he stared at Helen, beads of perspiration dampening his upper lip.

"You must speak to Nekoptah," he said, once Helen had finished her tale. The dinner was long finished; slaves had removed our plates and now nothing was on the low table at which we sat except wine cups and bowls of pomegranates, figs, and dates.

"Yes," agreed Nefertu. "I'm certain that he will advise the king to invite you to live here in Wast, as a royal guest."

Helen smiled, but her eyes went to me. I said nothing. She knew I would leave as soon as I could. Once I knew that she was safe, and that Lukka and his men were accepted in the army, then I could leave.

I said, "The lady brings a considerable treasure with her. She will not be a burdensome guest."

The two Egyptians saw the humor in my statement and laughed politely.

"A burden to the king," giggled Nefertu. He had drunk a fair amount of wine.

"As if the great Merneptah counted costs," agreed Mederuk with a well-trained smile. His wine cup had not been drained even once. I looked at him closely. His smooth plump face showed no trace of emotion, but his coal-black eyes betrayed the scheming that was going through his mind.

Chapter 37.

I left Helen's bed before sunrise and silently padded through the door that connected to my own room. The sky was just starting to turn gray and the room was still dark, yet something made me halt in my tracks and hold my breath.

Just the faintest whisper of movement. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I remained stock-still, my eyes searching the darkness, trying to penetrate the shadows. There was someone else in the room. I knew it. I sensed it. Still straining to see, I recalled exactly the layout of the room, the placement of the bed, the table, chairs, chests. The windows and the door to the hall...

A slight sc.r.a.ping sound, wood or metal against stone. I leaped at it, and banged painfully into the blank wall. Recoiling backward, I staggered a step or two and sat down on my rump with a heavy thud.

I had run against the wall precisely where one of the false windows was painted. Was it actually a hidden door, so cleverly concealed that I could not discern it?

I got slowly to my feet, aching at both ends of my spine. Someone had been in my room, of that I was certain. An Egyptian, not the Golden One or one of the other Creators. Sneaking around in the dark was not their style. Someone had been spying on me-on us, Helen and me. Or going through my belongings.

A thief? I doubted it, and a swift check of my clothes and weapons showed that nothing had been taken.

I dressed quickly, wondering if it was safe to leave Helen alone and sleeping, wondering if the intruder wanted me to wonder about her and stay away from Lukka and the parade ground. Nefertu had warned me about palace intrigues, and I was thoroughly puzzled.

A scratching at my door. I yanked it open and Nefertu stood there, dressed and smiling the polite meaningless smile that served as his way of facing the world.

After greeting him, I asked, "Is it possible to place a guard at Helen's door?"

He looked genuinely alarmed. "Why? Is something amiss?"

I told him what had happened. He looked skeptical, but strode off down the hall to find the guard corporal. A few minutes later he returned with a guard, a well-muscled black man dressed in a zebra-hide kilt with a sword belted around his middle.

Feeling somewhat better, I went off to the parade ground outside the barracks.

Lukka had his two dozen men arrayed in a double file, their chain mail and armor glistening with fresh oil, their helmets and swords polished like mirrors. Each man also held an iron-tipped spear rigidly erect, at precisely ninety degrees to the ground.

Nefertu introduced me to the Egyptian commander who was to inspect the Hitt.i.tes. His name was Raseth, a swarthy, heavyset, bl.u.s.tery old military man, bald and blunt as a bullet, with arms that looked powerful despite his advancing years. He limped slightly, as if the years had added too much weight to his body for his bandy legs to carry.

"I've fought against Hitt.i.tes," he said to no one in particular as he turned toward the troops lined up for him, "I know how good they are."

Turning toward me, he tugged at the collar of his robe, pulled it down off his left shoulder to reveal an ugly gash of a scar. "A gift from a Hitt.i.te spearman at Meggido." He seemed proud of the wound.

Lukka stood at the head of his little band, his eyes staring straight ahead at infinity. The men were like ramrods, silent and unblinking in the early sun.

Raseth walked up and down the two ranks, nodding and muttering to himself while Nefertu and I stood off to one side, watching.

Finally Raseth turned abruptly and limped back toward us.

"They fought where?" he asked me.

I briefly described the sieges at Troy and Jericho.

Raseth nodded his head knowingly. He did not smile, he was not the type of officer who smiled in front of troops.

"Engineers, eh? Well, we don't engage in many sieges," he said. "But they'll do. They'll do fine. The king's army welcomes them."

That was the easiest part of the day.

From the barracks Nefertu led me across a wide empty courtyard. The morning sun was just starting to feel hot against my back, throwing long shadows across the smoothed dirt floor. Along the back wall of the courtyard I saw a cattle pen, and a few humpbacked brahmas shuffling around, their tails flicking at flies. The breeze was coming off the river, though, and I smelled jasmine and lemon trees in the air.

"The royal offices," Nefertu pointed toward a set of buildings that looked to me like temples. I noticed that he looked nervous, tense, for the first time in all the long weeks I had known him. "Nekoptah will see us there."

We headed up a long, slowly rising rampway, flanked on either side by statues of Ramesses II, all of them larger than life, each of them the same: a powerfully muscled man striding forward, fists clenched at his sides, a strangely serene smile on his handsome face. Not a flaw in body or face, perfectly symmetrical, utterly balanced. The pink granite of the statues caught the morning sun and looked almost like warm flesh.

I felt as if a living giant were gazing down at me. Or a G.o.d. One of the Creators. Despite the sun's warmth, I shuddered.

At the end of the statue-lined ramp we turned left and pa.s.sed a row of ma.s.sive sphinxes: reclining lion's bodies with the heads of bulls. Even reclining, the sphinxes were as tall as I.

"The lion is the symbol of the sun," Nefertu explained. "The bull is Amon's totem. These sphinxes represent the harmony of the G.o.ds."

Between the forepaws of each sphinx was a statue of-who else? At least these were merely life-size.

"Are there no statues of Merneptah?" I asked.

Nefertu nodded his head. "Oh, yes, of course. But he reveres his ill.u.s.trious father as much as any man of the Two Kingdoms. Who would want to tear down statues of Ramesses to replace them with his own? Not even the king would dare."

We approached a huge doorway, flanked on either side by two more colossal statues of Ramesses: seated, this time, his hands filled with the staff of office and the sheaf of wheat that symbolized fertility. I began to wonder what it must be like to ascend to the throne after the reign of such a monarch.

"Merneptah and Nekoptah," I asked as we entered, at last, the cool shade of the temple, "are they related by blood?"

Nefertu smiled tightly, almost grimly, I thought. "Yes. And they both revere Ptah as their guardian and guide."

"Not Amon?"

"They revere Amon and all the G.o.ds, Orion. But Ptah is their special patron. The city of Menefer was Ptah's special city. Merneptah has brought his worship here, to the capital. Nekoptah is the chief priest of Ptah."

"Is there a statue of Ptah that I can see? What does he look like?"

"You will see soon enough." He said it almost crossly, as though irritated by my questions, or fearful of something I did not understand.

We were striding through a vast hallway of tremendous columns, so tall that the roof above us was lost in shadows. The floor was marble, the gigantic columns themselves granite, as wide around as the mightiest tree. Guards in gleaming gold armor stood s.p.a.ced every few yards, but it seemed to me they were there for ceremony and grandeur. There had been no need for armed men in this temple for a thousand years. This huge chamber had been designed to dwarf human scale, to overpower mere mortal men with its grandeur and immensity. It was a ploy that haughty, powerful men used up and down the ages: utilizing architecture to bend men's souls, to fill them with wonder, and admiration, and fear of the power that had raised these mighty pillars.

A pair of glittering eyes stared at me from the deep shadows. I almost laughed. Another of the palace's innumerable cats.

At the end of the awesome court we climbed up steps of black marble. Down another corridor, this one lined with small statues of various G.o.ds bearing heads of animals: a hawk, a jackal, a lion, even an anteater. At the end of the corridor a giant statue stood in a special niche, its head almost touching the ceiling.

"There is Ptah," said Nefertu, almost in a whisper.

The G.o.d's statue loomed before us, almost as huge as the colossi of Ramesses outside the temple. A skylight in the roof far above us cast a shaft of sunlight along the length of the statue's white stone. I saw a man's face, his body wrapped in windings like a mummy, except that his hands were free and clasping a long, elaborately worked staff. A skullcap covered his head, and a small beard dangled from his chin. The face looked uncannily like that of the slim, sarcastic Hermes I had last seen when I had briefly transported Joshua to the Creators' realm.

Nefertu stopped at the foot of the giant statue, where incense smoldered in a pair of braziers. He bowed three times, then took a pinch of something from the golden pan between the braziers and threw it onto the embers at his left. The stuff made a small burst of flame and sent white smoke spiraling toward the distant ceiling.

"You must offer a sacrifice, also, Orion," he whispered to me.

Straight-faced, I went to the railing and tossed a pinch of incense onto the brazier to my right. Its smoke was black. Turning back to Nefertu, I saw his eyes following the dark billow. His face was not pleased at all.

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked.

"No," he said, his eyes still on the drifting smoke. "But sacred Ptah is apparently not entirely happy with your offering."

I shrugged.

As he led me down a narrower corridor, past another pair of golden-armored guards and to a ma.s.sive door of ebony set into a deep, stone doorway, Nefertu seemed distinctly nervous, filled with an anxiety he could not hide. Was he apprehensive about meeting Nekoptah, or was it something I had done? Or had failed to do?

Another guard stood before the door. Without a word he opened it for Nefertu.

We stepped through the doorway into a sizable room. Morning sunlight slanted through three windows on our right. The room was absolutely bare of decorations: the stone walls were as blank as a prison cell's. The floor was empty and uncovered. Far at the other end of the room, next to its only other door, was a long table heaped with rolled-up writing scrolls. Two huge silver candlesticks stood at each end of the table, the candles in them unlit.

Behind the desk sat an enormously fat man, his head shaved bald, his huge globulous body covered with a gray sleeveless robe that went to the floor. His arms, flabby, thick, hairless, and pink as a baby pig, rested on the polished wood of the table. Every finger and both his thumbs bore jeweled rings, some of them so buried in flesh that they could not have been taken off in years. His jowls were so huge that they cascaded down onto his chest and shoulders. I could barely make out a pair of eyes embedded in that grossly corpulent face, studying us as we crossed the long empty chamber to stand before his desk. His face was painted: eyes lined with black kohl and daubed with green shadow above and below them, his cheeks pink with rouge, his lips deep red.

Nefertu threw himself onto the floor and pressed his forehead against the bare tiles. I remained standing, although I bowed slightly from the waist to show my respect.

"O great Nekoptah," intoned Nefertu, from the floor, "high priest of dreaded Ptah, right hand of mighty Merneptah, guide of the people, guardian of the Two Lands, I bring you the barbarian Orion, as you commanded."

The high priest's fleshy painted lips curled in what might have been a smile. "You may rise, Nefertu my servant. You have done well." His voice was a clear sweet tenor. It sounded strange, such a lovely voice coming from such a gross, ugly face. Then I realized that Nekoptah was a eunuch, one who had been dedicated to the G.o.d's service in childhood.

Nefertu slowly climbed to his feet and stood beside me. His face was red, whether from pressing it against the floor or from embarra.s.sment at having done so, I could not tell.

"And you, barbarian..."

"My name is Orion," I said.

Nefertu gasped at my effrontery. Nekoptah merely grunted.

"Orion, then," he granted. "My general Raseth tells me that your two dozen Hitt.i.tes will make a pa.s.sable addition to our all-conquering army."

"They are fine men."

"I am not so easily satisfied, however," he said, his voice rising slightly. "Raseth is of an age where he dwells in the past. I must look toward the future, if I am to protect and guide our great king."

He eyed me carefully as he spoke, waiting for a reaction from me. I remained silent.

"Therefore," he went on, "I have thought of a test that these recruits can undertake."

Again he waited for a reply. Again I said nothing.

"You, Orion, will lead your men to the delta country, where the barbarian Sea Peoples are raiding our coastal cities once again. One particularly troublesome set of raiders flies a lion's-head emblem on their sails. You will find them and destroy them, so that they will trouble the Lower Kingdom no longer."

Menalaos, I realized. Searching for Helen and ravaging the coastal cities, looting as much as possible while he searches. Possibly with Agamemnon alongside him.

"How many of these ships have been seen?" I asked.

Nekoptah seemed delighted that I had finally spoken. "Reports vary. At least ten, possibly as many as two dozen."

"And you expect two dozen soldiers to conquer two dozen shiploads of Achaians?"

"You will have other soldiers with you. I will see to that."

I shook my head. "With all respect, my lord..."

"Your holiness," Nefertu whispered.

It took an effort to get the words past my gag reflex. "With all respect-your holiness-I did not intend to stay with the Hitt.i.tes once they were accepted into your army."

"Your intentions are of little interest," said Nekoptah. "The needs of the kingdom are paramount."

Ignoring that, I continued, "I came here as escort to the Queen of Sparta, the lady Helen..."

"Escort?" He smirked. "Or consort?"