I could feel the blood rising in me. With a deliberate effort I calmed myself, constricted capillaries that would have colored my face.

Softly, I said, "So someone was spying on us in our rooms."

Nekoptah threw his head back and laughed. "Orion, do you think the king's chief minister will allow strangers into the palace without keeping watch on them? Every breath you take has been observed-even the dagger you carry hidden beneath your kilt was seen and reported to me."

I nodded acquiescence of the fact, knowing that there were armed guards standing on the other side of the door behind the priest's desk, ready to defend their master or slay us at the slightest word from him. Yet there was one thing that Nekoptah did not know, for he had never observed me in action: I could tear out his throat before the guards could open that door. And I could kill three or four armed men, too, if I had to.

"I've been carrying it for so long now that it seems a part of my body," I said meekly. "I'm sorry if it causes offense."

Nekoptah waved a fleshy hand, the rings on his fingers glittering in the morning sunlight. "The chief priest of almighty Ptah is not afraid of a dagger," he said grandly.

Nefertu shuffled his feet nervously, as if he wished he were somewhere else.

"As I was saying," I resumed, "I came here as escort to the lady Helen, Queen of Sparta, princess of the fallen Troy. She wishes to reside in the Kingdom of the Two Lands. She has wealth enough so that she would not be a burden on the state..."

Nekoptah waggled a fat hand impatiently, a movement hard enough to make his mountainous jowls quiver like ripples in a lake.

"Spare me the dull recitation of facts I already know," he said impatiently.

Again I struggled to keep my anger from showing.

Pointing a stubby thick finger at me, Nekoptah said, "This is what the king wishes you to do, Orion. You will take your men downriver to the delta, seek out these barbarian raiders, and destroy them. That is the price for accepting your Queen of Sparta into our city."

Kill Helen's husband in return for her safety in Egypt's capital. I thought it over for a moment, then asked: "And who will protect the lady while I am away?"

"She will be under the protection of the all-seeing Ptah, Architect of the Universe, Lord of the Sky and Stars."

"And mighty Ptah's representative here among mortals is yourself, is it not?" I asked.

He dipped his chins in acknowledgment.

"Will the lady be allowed to meet the king? Will she live in his house, protected by his servants?"

"She will live in my house," Nekoptah said, "protected by me. Surely you don't fear my my intentions toward your-queen." intentions toward your-queen."

"I promised to deliver her to the King of Egypt," I insisted, "not the king's chief minister."

Again Nefertu drew in his breath, as if expecting an explosion. But Nekoptah merely said mildly, "Do you not trust me, Orion?"

I replied, "You wish me to lead troops against the Achaian invaders of your land. I wish my lady to meet the king and dwell under his protection."

"You speak as if you had some power of bargaining. You have none. You will do as you are told. If you please the king, your request will be granted."

"If I please the king," I said, "it will be because the king's chief minister tells him to be pleased."

A wide, smug smile spread across Nekoptah's painted face, "Precisely, Orion. We understand one another."

I tacitly acknowledged defeat. For the moment. "Will the lady Helen be permitted to see the king, as she wishes?"

His smile even broader, Nekoptah answered, "Of course. His royal majesty expects to sup with the Queen of Sparta this very evening. You yourself may be invited-if we are in complete agreement."

For Helen's sake I bowed my head slightly. "We are," I said.

"Good!" His voice could not boom, it was too high. But it rang off the stone walls of the audience chamber, nonetheless.

I glanced at Nefertu out of the corner of my eye. He seemed immensely relieved.

"You may go," said Nekoptah. "A messenger will bring you your invitation to supper, Orion."

We started to turn toward the door.

But the high priest said, "One thing more. A small detail. On your way back from crushing the invaders, you must stop at Menefer and bring me the chief priest of Amon."

Nefertu paled. His voice quavered. "The chief priest of Amon?"

Almost jovially, Nekoptah replied, "The very same. Bring him here. To me." His smile remained fixed on his fleshy lips, but both his hands had squeezed themselves into fists.

I asked, "How will he know that we represent you?"

Laughing, he answered, "He will have no doubt of it, never fear. But-to convince the temple troops who guard his worthless carca.s.s..."

He wormed a ma.s.sive gold ring off his left thumb. It was set with a blood-red carnelian that bore a miniature carving of Ptah. "Here. This will convince any doubters that you act by my command."

The ring felt heavy and hot in my hand. Nefertu stared at it as if it were someone's death warrant.

Chapter 38.

OBVIOUSLY, Nefertu had been shaken by our meeting with the king's chief minister. He was silent as we were escorted back to my apartment, far across the complex of temples and palaces that made up the capitol.

I remained silent, also, trying to piece together the parts of the puzzle. Like it or not, I was in the middle of some sort of convoluted palace conspiracy; Nekoptah was using me for his own purposes, and I doubted that they coincided with the best interests of the Kingdom of the Two Lands.

One glance at Nefertu told me he would offer no hint of explanation. He was ashen-faced as we walked between the gold-armored guards down the long corridors and lofty colonnaded courts of the capitol, with their cats skulking in the shadows. His hands trembled at his sides. His mouth was a thin line, lips pressed together so hard that they were white.

We reached my apartment and I invited him inside.

He shook his head. "I'm afraid there are other matters I must attend to."

"Just for a moment," I said. "There's something I want to show you. Please."

He dismissed the guards and entered my room, his eyes showing fear, not curiosity.

I knew we were being watched. Somewhere along the walls there was a cunningly contrived peephole, and a spy in the employ of the chief priest of Ptah observing us. I took Nefertu out onto the terrace, where a pair of rope-sling chairs overlooked the busy courtyard and rustling palm trees.

I needed to know what Nefertu knew, what was in his mind. He would not tell me willingly, I could see that. So I had to pry into his mind whether he wanted me to or not. Perhaps somewhere beneath the surface of his rigid self-control I could reach the part of his mind that was searching for an ally against whatever it was that was frightening him.

The poor man sat on the front inch of his chair, his back ramrod straight, his hands clasped on his knees. I pulled my chair up close to his and put my hand across his thin shoulder. I could feel the tenseness in the tendons of his neck.

"Try to relax," I said softly, keeping my voice low so that whoever was watching could not hear.

I kneaded the back of his neck with one hand while staring deeply into his eyes. "We have known each other for many weeks, Nefertu. I have come to admire and respect you. I want you to think of me as your friend."

His chin dipped slightly. "You are my friend," he agreed.

"You know me well enough to realize that I will not harm you. Nor will I knowingly harm your people, the people of the Two Lands."

"Yes," he said drowsily. "I know."

"You can trust me."

"I can trust you."

Slowly, slowly I forced his body and his mind to relax. He was almost asleep, even though his eyes were open and he could speak to me. His conscious mind, his willpower, were allayed. He was a frightened man, and he badly needed a friend he could trust. I convinced him not only that he could trust me, but that he must tell me what it was that was frightening him.

"That's the only way I can help you, my friend."

His eyes closed briefly. "I understand, friend Orion."

Gradually I got him to talk, in a low monotone that I hoped could not be overheard by Nekoptah's spies. The story he unfolded was as convoluted as I had feared. And it spelled danger. Not merely for me: I was inured to danger and it held no real terror over me. But Helen had inadvertently stepped into a trap that Nekoptah had cunningly devised. Loathe him though I did, I had to admire the quick adroitness of his mind, and respect the strength and speed with which he moved.

It had been whispered up and down the length of the kingdom-so Nefertu told me-that King Merneptah was dying. Some said it was the wasting disease; others whispered that he was being poisoned. Be that as it may, the true power of the throne was being wielded by the king's chief minister, the obese Nekoptah.

The army was loyal to the king, not a priest of Ptah. But the army itself was weak and divided. Its days of glory under Ramesses II were long gone. Merneptah had allowed the army to erode to the point where most of the troops were foreigners and most of the generals were pompous old windbags living on past victories. Where the army had slaughtered the Sea Peoples who raided the delta in Ramesses's time, now the barbarians sacked cities and terrified the Lower Kingdom, and the army seemed unable to stop them.

Nekoptah did not want a strong army. It would be an obstacle to his control of the king and the kingdom. Yet he could not allow the Sea Peoples to continually raid the delta country; the Lower Kingdom would rise up against him if he could not defend them adequately. So the chief priest of Ptah hit upon a brilliant plan: send the newly arrived Hitt.i.te contingent against the Sea Peoples, as part of a new army expedition to the delta. Let the barbarian leaders see that the man who stole Helen from the Achaian victors at Troy was now in Egypt. Let them know that, just as they suspected, Helen was under the protection of the Kingdom of the Two Lands.

And let them know, by secret messenger, that Helen would be returned to them-if they stopped their raids on the delta. Even more: Nekoptah was prepared to offer Menalaos and his Achaians a part of the rich delta country as their own, if they would guard the Lower Kingdom against attacks from other Peoples of the Sea.

But first Menalaos had to be certain that Helen actually was in Egypt. For that, Orion and his. .h.i.tt.i.tes would be sent into the delta as sacrificial lambs, to be slaughtered by the barbarians.

And more.

Unrest against Nekoptah's usurpation of power was already being felt in the city of Menefer, the ancient capital, where the great pyramids proclaimed the worship of Amon. The chief priest of Amon, Hetepamon by name, was the main plotter against Nekoptah. Should Orion get out of the battles of the delta alive, he was to bring Hetepamon back to Wast with him. As a guest, if possible. As a prisoner, if necessary.

Of course, if Orion should be killed by the Sea Peoples, as seemed likely, someone else would be sent to pluck Hetepamon from his temple and bring him to the power of Nekoptah.

A neat scheme, worthy of a cunning mind.

I leaned back in my chair and relaxed my mental grip on Nefertu's mind. He sagged slightly, then took in a deep breath of revivifying air. He blinked, shook his head groggily, then smiled at me.

"Did I fall asleep?"

"You drowsed a bit," I said.

"How odd."

"It was a very tense meeting this morning."

He got to his feet and stretched. Looking out over the courtyard below us, he saw that the sun was nearly setting.

"I must have slept for hours!" Turning to me, he looked genuinely puzzled. "How boring that must have been for you."

"I was not bored."

With a testing, tentative shake of his head, Nefertu said, "The rest seems to have done me good. I feel quite refreshed."

I was pleased. He was too honest a man to carry the burden of Nekoptah's scheming within his mind, without a friend to share the problem.

But Nefertu still looked slightly puzzled when he took his leave of me. I asked him to meet me for breakfast the next morning, so I could tell him about our royal evening.

Supper with the King of Egypt, the mightiest ruler of the world, the pharaoh who had driven the Israelites out of his country, was a strange, disquieting affair.

Helen was tremendously excited about meeting the great king. She spent the entire afternoon with female servants running about, bathing and scenting her, tying her hair in piles of golden curls, making up her beautiful face with kohl for her eyes and rouge for her cheeks and lips. She dressed in her finest flounced skirt of golden threads and tinkling silver ta.s.sels, decked herself with necklaces and bracelets and rings that gleamed in the lamplight as the last rays of the sun died against a violet western sky.

I wore a fresh leather kilt, a gift from Nefertu, and a crisp white linen shirt, also provided by the Egyptian. I strapped my dagger to my thigh as a matter of course.

Helen opened the door that connected our two rooms and stood in the doorway, practically trembling with antic.i.p.ation.

"Do I look fit to meet the king?" she asked.

I smiled and replied truthfully, "The proper question would be, is the King of Egypt fit to meet the most beautiful woman in the world?"

She smiled back at me. I went to her, but she held me at arm's length. "Don't touch me! I'll smudge or wrinkle!"

I threw my head back and laughed. It was the last laughter to come from me.

An escort of a full dozen gold-clad guards took us through narrow corridors and flights of stairs that seemed to have no pattern to them except to confuse one who did not know the way by heart. Thinking back to my morning's meeting with Nekoptah, and to what Nefertu had unknowingly revealed to me, I realized that Helen and I were truly prisoners of the chief priest, rather than guests of the king.

Instead of a magnificent dining hall filled with laughing guests and entertainers who regaled the company with song and dance while servants carried in ma.s.sive trays heaped high with food and poured wine from golden pitchers, Merneptah's supper was a quiet affair in a small windowless chamber.

Helen and I were brought by the guards to a plain wooden door. A servant opened it and beckoned us into the smallish room. We were the first there. The table was set for four. A chandelier of gleaming copper hung above the table. Serving tables stood flat against the walls.

The servant bowed to us and left by the room's only other door, set in the farther wall.

Once again I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. We were being watched, I knew. There were paintings on the walls, scenes of royal hunts with the king-drawn much larger than everyone else-spearing lions and leopards. I saw the glint of coal-black eyes where a lion's tawny ones should be.

"Is hospitality in Sparta so cold that the king would leave his guests alone in a room without food or drink or entertainment?" I asked Helen.

"No," she said, in a small voice. She seemed vastly disappointed.

The door from the hall opened and fat Nekoptah waddled through, covered by a white floor-length robe that looked like a tent. He was decked in almost as many jewels as Helen and the paint on his face was much heavier. I had warned Helen about his appearance, and my estimation of him. He had heard every word I had spoken, I could tell from the nasty expression he gave me.

"Forgive the informality of this evening," he said to us. "Later, we will arrange a proper state dinner for the Queen of Sparta. Tonight, the king merely wishes to meet you and welcome you to the Kingdom of the Two Lands."