Coincidence Theory

The afternoon sun was particularly ferocious, as if Ra himself knew what was going to happen that evening and wished the inhabitants of the city to feel his frustration. Even so, J’tan, Malachi, and Samali made swift progress through the bustling crowds.

  When they approached the grand causeway leading to the palace district, J’tan spied a row of water jars covered by a reed thatch and motioned for the others to follow.

  “This is what we need to do.” said J’tan, kneeling in the welcome shade. His plan needed to be simple and involve actions that, in any other circumstances, would seem normal. “Malachi, you will walk with purpose toward where the mason’s family are being held. If anyone stops you, tell them you have orders from Smenkhkare to take Samali, who will pose as a gift from the Hittites, to the harem. I will accompany you with my cowl up. If they ask who I am, say I am the emissary of the Hittites and here as Smenkhkare’s guest. When we get there, hand Samali to the guards. There will be six on duty, and training suggests two will leave to take Samali to the matrons. That will leave us four to deal with my son.”

  J’tan looked at Malachi and could sense his eagerness. However, willingness to begin a task and being able to go through with it were different things. He needed to know his son would be able to complete what was required.

  “These are your compatriots and your friends, Malachi.” said J’tan, searching his son’s face for signs of doubt. “Are you sure you can do this?”

  “I will not let you down, father.” said Malachi, his features unmoved and his tone deathly serious.

  “Good.” said J’tan, certain it was the truth. “From there we will move to the back chambers and find the one in which the mason’s family is being kept.”

  J’tan stood and drew his hood so it would obscure his face, as Samali tidied herself and tucked her dress into her sash to make a healthy amount of leg visible.

  The causeway was a magnificent showcase to the artisans of the Pharaoh. Its smooth, limestone surface polished to such a degree that images of the surrounding buildings reflected from it. The causeway was flanked by two rows of beautifully carved, ram-headed sphinxes representing Amun-Ra. The statue’s lion-like forms constructed from horse-sized granite blocks, each identically perfect in proportion to its neighbour.

  At the far end of the causeway, two huge statues to Osiris and Horus stood either side of the entrance to the palace. They towered above the walls of the compound, looming out of the rays of the sun to their backs. Each was at least the same height as the tallest tree in the city, exquisitely carved from black granite. It was as if these towering masses of stone were alive, imbued by the desert sun with the power of the ages.

  Beyond the causeway, the group crossed the grand courtyard in which the palace structures were located and toward the palace’s subsidiary buildings. As they traversed the long gallery, echoed screams could be heard coming from in front of them.

  In horror, J’tan realised the screams were female. Something was happening in the harem. He raised his speed to a sprint, flinging his hood back and heading to the front of the group, as his feet struggled for grip on the polished floor.

  In the distance, the entrance to the harem loomed large, its massive stone archway adorned with jewels and fine cloths painted with the finest hues from beyond the sea of red.

  As J’tan hurtled toward it, he could see a woman in the entrance. Her slender features and fine, silken robes draped in all manner of dazzling gems; including a brightly adorned crown, which marked her out as one of Smenkhkare’s queens. Her long hair and heavily attended skin highlighted the richness of life she bathed in, and her stern features projected steely authority. It was Jethro’s daughter, Miriamne.

  Miriamne twisted, recognising Malachi and J’tan as they barrelled down on her. Her body swayed with every footfall, almost as if she were dancing, as she bridged the gap to them. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her gown drifting above the floor as if held by unseen servants.

  “Is the family of the mason still here?” said J’tan, confused by her presence.

  “Someone’s family is here?” Miriamne asked, her voice tinged with authority.

  “If you are not aware of the family, then what are you doing here?” asked Malachi, his thoughts mirroring J’tan’s.

  “Removing my competition.” said Miriamne, her voice devoid of emotion. “An opportunity has presented itself and they do not appear often. I am here to seize it.”

  “I take it there are none saved alive herein?” asked Samali.

  Miriamne peered quizzically at Samali, pondering her response. “The guards will have been thorough. I am sorry.”

  J’tan looked round. The first room of the harem had two doorways on its far wall, its centre strewn with brightly coloured pillows. A brazier sat in its core, whose hot embers burnt oil from a brass disc suspended above it. Underneath the plush pillows, he could see the stray limbs of felled courtesans.

  Angered by Miriamne’s actions, J’tan turned and glared.

  Miriamne caught the look and met it with a fierce determination of spirit. “I am sorry if you are upset, J’tan, but you have no idea what is at stake. I cannot waste more time aiding you. Give my regards to my sisters Malachi, and ensure that you get out of the city as soon as you can.”

  Malachi went to speak, but J’tan shooed any further outbursts away with a shake of his head. They had to move quickly. The screams ended only a moment ago, and they may still have time to complete their mission. He must keep Malachi focussed on their task.

  As Miriamne drifted out of sight, he ushered Malachi and Samali inside the harem. As they progressed, the horror of what recently occurred began to dawn; each room festooned with the bloodied bodies of scantily clad women from Pharaoh’s lands.

  J’tan increased his pace with each new chamber, terrified he may be too late.

  Eventually, they reached a small room; its simple wooden door, usually held in place by ropes, torn away from the frame. Laid across the pile of blood soaked cushions that lined it, a deep gash covering most of her exposed chest, the mason’s wife lay motionless.

  J’tan crouched by the woman’s side, placing a hand on her cheek and feeling the clammy coolness of death settled there. “We have failed.” he said, sagging to the floor.

  “Quiet!” said Samali, as she made her way inside. “I think I can hear something.”

  J’tan looked quizzically at Malachi, as Samali traversed the small room, tossing pillows as she moved. Finally, she stopped above a larger pile of woven throws at the back of the room and turned toward them, placing a sole finger across her lips. She knelt down and moved the cushions on the top of the pile. There, buried underneath, was a pair of petrified children. Their dirty faces streaked by streaming tears, and their hair matted in the still warm blood of their mother.

  J’tan found himself thinking about how the children ended up like this. He imagined their fear, as they listened to the rampaging guards tearing their swathe of carnage through the harem, slaughtering the women as they went. He imagined their mother, tears rolling down her face, kissing her children goodbye and telling them to stay quiet no matter what happened, as she buried them under the pillows and awaited her time to die. He found he was suddenly flooded with paternal instincts for these children. A sense of protection toward someone other than his kin he had never experienced before. Their presence here was his fault, and their mother’s blood was on his hands.

  “Do not fear me little ones.” said Samali, in a warm, soft tone. “I am here to help you. I am your friend.”

  The two children looked up, tears still issuing down their young faces, their trembling lips unable to form the shapes that would allow speech.

  The elder of the two, the mason’s daughter, caught a glimpse of J’tan and howled, grabbing her younger brother tight and pressing his face into her bosom.

  “She recognises you. Get out of here!” said Samali, with urgency. “Malachi and I will take care of this.”

&nbs
p; J’tan wanted to stay. He wanted to tell these children he was sorry. However, his chance to make amends had long since gone. With a heavy heart, he made his way outside. All he could do now was protect them. His word was his bond. He would not fail these children or their father again.

  Back in the room, Samali continued to coax the children from their hiding place. J’tan knew their time was running out, but he also knew that dragging two screaming children through the city would alert more than just guards to their actions. He needed to keep his urgency in its place and grant Samali the time she needed to get the children to come peaceably.

  “This is Malachi.” said Samali, soothingly. “He is a big, strong warrior and he has come to protect you. He has promised not to allow anyone you do not like to come near you.”

  The young girl looked up cautiously and then out to where J’tan stood.

  “He will protect you from that man.” said Samali, nodding. “Anyone you tell him to make go away, he will. All you have to do is ask.”

  Malachi smiled at the children and nodded, holding his head down for a few moments in a show of servitude. “I promise to allow no harm to come to you.” he said, his voice taking on its own, childish warmth.

  The girl’s shivers subsided, as she fearfully reached out her hand toward Samali’s. When she made contact, Samali made no attempt to move it. She allowed the child to be safe in the knowledge that the hand was hers and it would only hold her when she was ready. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the girl inched forward, Samali never once allowing her to see a moment’s hesitation. Eventually, when half the distance between them was bridged, the girl moved. She reached forward and wrapped Samali up in hug, her sobbing resuming as soon as her face made contact with her tunic. Moments later, Malachi opened his arms wide and accepted the arrival of her brother to his grasp.

  With the two children safely snuggled in warm embraces, Samali and Malachi made their way outside.

  “Where should we take them?” asked Samali, her concern evident. “They have no family and will need a great deal of caring.”

  “We shall take them with us to the hidden room in my father’s temple to wait out the night. In the morning, we shall go out of the city to the farms of my cousins. Albamek and his wife have not been blessed with children. They are a loving couple who will provide well.” said J’tan, attempting to take the harsh edges from his voice. “Now come. We should leave this place whilst we still can.”

  J’tan could tell Samali was impressed that he would think of the children in such a considerate way. He knew from experience that the death of a parent, as was the case with Malachi, was something only time and love would get you through. It was not as difficult as Samali believed for him to extend the thought to another.

  As they left the palace behind and made their way through the slowly emptying streets, J’tan prayed his compassion would not cost them too dearly.

 

  Chapter 21