The Prince of Nubia

  THE PRINCE OF NUBIA

  The Mummifier's Daughter – Book 6

  by

  Nathaniel Burns

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter One

  The sun lowered on the western horizon, casting the sky in shades of pink, orange, and gray, while the earth below released the heat encased in the ground. A few hours later it would be cold to the touch. Something Shabaka gave little thought to as he stood on the lanai and watched the retreating sun, the fight of the gods starting anew.

  He released a heavy sigh as his gaze shifted north, a heavy sensation settling in his heart. He had a view over the gardens of the palace and where before they had always given him some sense of calm, they now had little effect on his restless disposition.

  During the day it was easy to forget that she had left, matters about Dragi’s death, and his impending acceptance of Aya as a wife, although he had no desire for marriage to her. Shabaka intended to talk to his father on their return and explain that it was an unsuited match, that he should be released from the arrangement. Only his father could overturn such an arrangement, although he doubted that he would. He would explain the situation—would get Aya to support him and his reasons for agreeing to it in the first place. Aya could then be kept within the palace until such time as she found a more suitable husband, leaving him free to return to his duties and Thebes.

  He closed his eyes, running his hands over his face, taking in a deep breath to steady his thoughts, thinking about another woman. He was still angry, angry that she would leave—would feel the need to leave him. His gaze shifted northward—Thebes lay that way. He should not have allowed her to go, even with a royal medjay, he did not like the idea that she was traveling through the desert, without him, although she had in the past managed. That was the only reason he had finally relented.

  His hands again clenched tightly as a feeling of discord filled him. He had to wait on the medjay’s return to confirm her safe passage. She had been so impatient, insistent on leaving, needing to attend to matters at home. And a part of him could understand, as she had only recently learned that she had charge of her sister’s child. In addition, she had her per-nefer to attend to.

  However, her duty to Ramesses had been fulfilled. The two of them had discovered what had happened to Dragi, and she was free to leave, although he had hoped she could remain long enough to allow him to introduce her to his parents.

  The darkness of the evening started to crawl over the sky, and it was as if Apep was once again delighting in Shabaka’s misfortune, grinning down at him, taking pleasure in his torment.

  Hard, rapid footfalls sounded on the floor behind him, their certainty indication enough that it was one of the official runners, for only official runners had shoes to allow them to run unhindered by the surface of the ground. His spine stiffened, his level of irritation increased to petulance, even before the man came to a standstill, breathing hard as he tried to address him.

  “My prince,” the royal runner, Azez, spoke, between gasps, “Your presence is required in the quad.”

  Shabaka’s hands clenched into fists, he had seen to all the matters of the court for the day, he had given strict instruction that he was not to be disturbed. He had enough of the festival arrangements and the vizier’s insistence that he partake in the preparations. He had only been grateful that Dragi’s son had not objected to his father’s wishes. But then, as the first born, he had inherited most of the man’s possessions.

  “I said I was not to be disturbed,” Shabaka flatly replied.

  “Yes, my prince, but this is a matter of great importance, or I would not have come.” The insistence in the man’s voice, caused Shabaka’s shoulders to droop as he turned to face him.

  “Can one of my father’s advisors not deal with it?”

  The man for a moment looked confused, then uncertain, finally uncomfortable, as he replied, “Bergi had me summon you.”

  A heavy sigh escaped Shabaka as he finally nodded his head, knowing that until his eldest brother or his father returned, he was responsible for dealing with sensitive matters. “What is it about?”

  The man again looked at him in uncertainty, hesitantly replying, “You should see.”

  From the man’s demeanor, Shabaka knew it was an important matter and as the only adult member of the royal family currently present, he was both responsible and accountable for what happened in the kingdom, even if it infringed on his time and thoughts. He nodded and indicated for Azez to precede him.

  Shabaka felt his brow mar as they arrived at the quad—he had expected a matter of urgency, not a few desert dwellers with a donkey waiting for him. He was about to object when Bergi himself stepped forward from the men.

  “My prince, I thought you would want to be notified as soon as possible.”

  “Of what?” Shabaka said, looking toward the men

  “I think it is best if you see for yourself,” the man replied, gesturing to the men with their donkey.

  He looked at the donkey, for the first time taking in the burden it had strapped on its back. His gaze moved to the two men standing beside it, their uncertainty evident, as if knowing that whatever message they were conveying would not be welcome.

  A heavy sensation formed in the pit of his stomach, a nauseous feeling overcame him as he swallowed what rose from his stomach. He approached them and in the dark could just make out the shape of a body flung across the donkey, his mind conjured up many images—one of his brothers, possibly one of their closer relatives—it would be the only reason why he would be summoned to tend to the matter. Everyone within the court seemed far too silent as if there was a great weight to the matter. Shabaka steadied himself as he approached, turning ice cold as he identified the man on the donkey’s back, for a moment unwilling to accept what he was seeing. The sense of nausea increased tenfold as he stumbled back, struggling to breathe

  He turned to look at the men with uncertainty, his mind disinclined to comprehend the true meaning of it.

  The elder of the men bowed before addressing him. “My prince, your father has always looked on us kindly for our services.”

  Shabaka looked at the man as if he spoke in a foreign language, his mind registering the words but seeming incapable of forming the desired response.

  “We found him in the desert, about a day from here.” After a pause, the man continued, “Seeing as he is . . . was one of the palace guards, one with the sash of a medjay, we thought it best to bring him here.”

  Shabaka tried to speak but found himself incapable; his mind, thoughts, and mouth could not seem to agree as to what needed to be asked, demanded first.

  “We do not know what he was doing there, we do not question his presence at such a site, but anything of worth was taken,” the younger man added.

  The young man’s words caused Shabaka’s heart to leap into his throat, seeming to choke him even more

  The elder of the two, noticing his distress was quick to ask, “Are you well, my prince? You appear ill.”

  “There . . . there was a woman with him,” Shabaka stated, his voice faltering some. He cleared his throat, unwilling to accept the reality of the matter. “There was a woman with him,” he repeated, this time firmer. “Where is she?”

  The elder man looked at him, his bro
w marring, before he replied, “We have no idea.”

  The man’s words seemed to release Shabaka from his stupor, and he harshly demanded, “Where exactly did you find him?” Shock having given way to anger, he stepped up to the older man. “Tell me where you found him. I will send men there now!”

  The man pulled back from him and looked at him in question, “My lord, if you think we

  had—”

  The man was not even given a moment to finish, while Shabaka commanded, turning to Azez, “Get me the medjay, and have someone bring my horse, now!”

  Azez turned but was halted by the younger man, who had stepped closer to the elder as he spoke, “It does not matter if you go there, you will find nothing.”

  Azez hesitantly looked at Shabaka.

  The man’s words had Shabaka turn back, “What do you mean?”

  “Everyone was dead. By the time you get there, the hyenas and buzzards will have picked the bones clean.”

  Shabaka turned fully to the younger man, “If he will not tell me, then you will.” He watched as the younger man flinched at his demanding tone.

  Darkness enveloped them. The only light was that from the lanterns around the quad.

  “There is nothing to tell—they were all dead.”

  “There was a woman with the medjay, a woman with the colors of the pharaoh.”

  “There were several women but not one as you describe, not one with any colors of the pharaoh.”

  “We would have also brought her, as in agreement with your father,” the older man said.

  Bergi touched Shabaka’s arm causing him to turn toward him, “A word, my prince,” the aged advisor said, indicating for Shabaka to follow him a short distance away.

  “My prince, at a time such as this, you cannot just go running into the desert.” Shabaka looked at the man in disbelief, anger radiating through him. “You cannot risk your own life for one you might not be able to save.” The man’s words incited Shabaka.

  “We do not know if these killers would lay in ambush. As a prince you know the payoff they would ask of your father. This action of yours is foolish. You have commitments to the kingdom. You cannot allow anyone to know how this affects you. It is possible that those behind this already suspect your attachment to the Hittite woman, and although they know it might not be approved of, women have always been a soft point for men. She might be dead already but they can use it against you, the chance that she might still well be alive.”

  “And what am I to do? Sit here and wait, see what happens, live with this doubt in me. I want to be sick because I don’t know—at least if I go, if I see, then I will know.”

  “You cannot go,” Bergi firmly decreed. “You have responsibilities here that far outweigh that of checking corpses in the desert.”

  “I did not ask you for your council,” Shabaka snapped at Bergi. “The woman is one of the Egyptian pharaoh’s selected representatives. Her whereabouts must be confirmed. If she is alive and in the desert, she must be found.”

  “And you are the son of the Nubian king. You cannot be permitted to go on such an endeavor.”

  “I’m not just going to remain here, passive, doing nothing.”

  “I did not say you must, but only that you consider your safety and that of your kingdom. Think about how your father would handle this—what would he do?”

  “I am not my father.”

  “No, you are not, but you are his son and trained by an Egyptian pharaoh. The Egyptian methods are very similar.”

  Shabaka took a deep breath, his head wanting to reject the logical reason the man spoke of. He had always disliked the fact that his life at home was open for all the kingdom to scrutinize. His mistakes always appeared that much greater, because everyone seemed to notice them.

  Shabaka turned toward Azez, “Tell the captain of the cavalry I want four of his best riders, fully equipped with their horses, to appear before me, as soon as possible.”

  Azez nodded and set off in the direction of the stables.

  “I will take care of these men, compensate them for their service, for bringing the medjay’s body to us,” Bergi stated. “However, I will forewarn you to expect the worse. Even if the thieves have not captured her, there is a good chance that the desert will have claimed her.”

  Shabaka felt his rage rise, fought to contain it. Throughout all the years, and with all the training he had received, from both his father and Ramesses, he found it impossible to let such a comment pass unchallenged.

  “You do not know her,” Shabaka firmly countered, uncertain whether he was trying to convince the man or himself.

  “I might not know her well enough to comment on that, my prince, but I do know the desert. I also know that with the current unease, your sudden departure will not be seen in a good light. Until such time as matters are resolved, or your father has returned, it would be best to act with caution. You would not wish for anyone to consider your sudden departure as abandonment, or for being anything other than what it is.”

  Shabaka wanted to argue with the man, but knew that it would be futile. Bergi had been his father’s trusted advisor for several years already. He understood the people, their reasoning, their concerns, and he tried to rein in his anger, quite familiar with the responsibilities passed to him by birth. Only this time the needs of his people were in direct opposition to his own desire—his need to find her. For she could not be dead, he would not allow for that, there was just too much left unresolved between them.

  Shabaka turned toward the two men, still standing beside their donkey, “You will accompany the men. And you will show them where you found this body.”

  “But, my prince, we have just arrived from the desert. I am tired and looking forward to a good meal and a decent sleeping mat.”

  “You will show my men where you found him and assist them in their search. If you refuse I might refuse to honor my father’s agreement with you.”

  The younger man made to object. But Shabaka silenced him by lifting his hand.

  “I will also inform the Egyptian pharaoh that you refused to assist in the search of one of his prefects, and that you are withholding information on her whereabouts.”

  The younger man looked toward the elder, uncertainly, hesitantly asking, “The woman was a prefect?”

  “Yes, she is a prefect,” Shabaka replied, unwilling to accept that she might no longer be such. “She works with me and was personally appointed by Ramesses, just as I was.”

  The younger man finally nodded. “I will show your men where, but I will expect payment.”

  Shabaka wanted to counter the man, wanted to reprimand him, although he quickly realized that the man was not trying to exploit him. Instead he realized that he was preventing the man form applying his trade, and that payment would only be expected. “You will be given two debben on your return.”

  “Let it not be said that the Nubian prince is parsimonious,” Bergi said, indicating two of the guards to approach. “Take the elder and the donkey to the per-nefer, who will see to the burial preparations.”

  Shabaka watched them leave, before turning to Bergi, “I need to send a bark to Thebes. There is someone who needs to be collected.”

  The man looked at him in disbelief, “My prince, certainly no person could be that important to warrant such cost.”

  Shabaka, unwilling to be tolerate the man’s insistence on doing the right thing, countered. “Do not question me! You said that I should think and respond in the manner my father or Ramesses would. Well, I tell you that neither of them would object to the collection of another prefect to assist with the matter,” the man looked taken aback for a moment, “seeing that both of them would surround themselves with the men they most trusted, and I will be held up with matters of court.” The latter he had only added out of spite, in retaliation for his displeasure about the matter.

  “Have them leave at first light before the jeer return to the river.”

  “Yes, my prince,” Bergi
willingly replied.

  “Summon me the moment the medjay arrives, I want to speak with him before he leaves.”

  “You cannot mean to send them out tonight, there is hardly any Moon,” Bergi countered.

  “The cooler air is better for the horses, and if they leave now they should be at the site by dawn.”

  “My lord, your father will not approve.”

  “Well, he is not here to tend to the matter, is he? Were he here, I would not be having this conversation with you, for I would already have left,” Shabaka said, turning, forcing his body to move. Yet there was a lingering numbness that had enveloped him.

  Chapter Two

  Shabaka irritably paced his chamber, every so often stopping to look out to the still dark sky, wishing that the gods would finish their routine battle and allow the sun to rise. All evening he had been pacing, and it had done little to settle his nerves. If anything, every passing moment had only served to frustrate him more. He regretted listening to his father’s advisor. He needed to do something and he would far rather have been in the company of the medjay than remaining at the palace to await the news. The closer Ra’s ascent into the sky came, the closer he knew the medjay would be to the campsite. He would have answers by nightfall.

  He watched as the sky grew lighter. Breathing a sigh of relief, he could leave his chambers. The constant pressure of living with the opinions of others was severely trying, however, he understood as both Ramesses and his father had often explained to him the need for it, and that there could be casualties, and that many might even be personal, however, they could not allow for others to know their points of weakness. It made no sense to him; it went against every instinct that he had.

  There was a knock on his door, and he turned toward it, firmly demanding, “What is it?”

  One of the palace footmen entered, bowing before addressing him, “Prince Shabaka, there is a messenger at the door, claiming he has been sent to collect you, that there is a bark waiting for you. He claims that the bark is ready and that the captain waits on you. I told him he must be mistaken; however, he is insistent.”