The Season of the Hyaena Read online

  THE SEASON OF THE HYAENA

  PAUL DOHERTY

  headline

  www.headline.co.uk

  Copyright © 2005 Paul Doherty

  The right of Paul Doherty to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2008

  All characters – other than the obvious historical figures – in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  eISBN 978 0 7553 5044 5

  This Ebook produced by Jouve Digitalisation des Informations

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  An Hachette Livre UK Company

  338 Euston Road

  London NW1 3BH

  www.headline.co.uk

  www.hachettelivre.co.uk

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Letter to the Reader

  About the Author

  Also by Paul Doherty

  Praise for Paul Doherty

  Dedication

  Principal Characters

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Historical Note

  History has always fascinated me. I see my stories as a time machine. I want to intrigue you with a murderous mystery and a tangled plot, but I also want you to experience what it was like to slip along the shadow-thronged alleyways of medieval London; to enter a soaringly majestic cathedral but then walk out and glimpse the gruesome execution scaffolds rising high on the other side of the square. In my novels you will sit in the oaken stalls of a gothic abbey and hear the glorious psalms of plain chant even as you glimpse white, sinister gargoyle faces peering out at you from deep cowls and hoods. Or there again, you may ride out in a chariot as it thunders across the Redlands of Ancient Egypt or leave the sunlight and golden warmth of the Nile as you enter the marble coldness of a pyramid’s deadly maze. Smells and sounds, sights and spectacles will be conjured up to catch your imagination and so create times and places now long gone. You will march to Jerusalem with the first Crusaders or enter the Colosseum of Rome, where the sand sparkles like gold and the crowds bay for the blood of some gladiator. Of course, if you wish, you can always return to the lush dark greenness of medieval England and take your seat in some tavern along the ancient moon-washed road to Canterbury and listen to some ghostly tale which chills the heart . . . my books will take you there then safely bring you back!

  The periods that have piqued my interest and about which I have written are many and varied. I hope you enjoy the read and would love to hear your thoughts – I always appreciate any feedback from readers. Visit my publisher’s website here: www.headline.co.uk and find out more. You may also visit my website: www.paulcdoherty.com or email me on: [email protected].

  Paul Doherty

  About the Author

  Paul Doherty is one of the most prolific, and lauded, authors of historical mysteries in the world today. His expertise in all areas of history is illustrated in the many series that he writes about, from the Mathilde of Westminster series, set at the court of Edward II, to the Amerotke series, set in Ancient Egypt. Amongst his most memorable creations are Hugh Corbett, Brother Athelstan and Roger Shallot.

  Paul Doherty was born in Middlesbrough. He studied history at Liverpool and Oxford Universities and obtained a doctorate at Oxford for his thesis on Edward II and Queen Isabella. He is now headmaster of a school in north-east London and lives with his wife and family near Epping Forest.

  Also by Paul Doherty

  Mathilde of Westminster

  THE CUP OF GHOSTS

  THE POISON MAIDEN

  THE DARKENING GLASS

  Sir Roger Shallot

  THE WHITE ROSE MURDERS

  THE POISONED CHALICE

  THE GRAIL MURDERS

  A BROOD OF VIPERS

  THE GALLOWS MURDERS

  THE RELIC MURDERS

  Templar

  THE TEMPLAR

  THE TEMPLAR MAGICIAN

  Mahu (The Akhenaten trilogy)

  AN EVIL SPIRIT OUT OF THE WEST

  THE SEASON OF THE HYAENA

  THE YEAR OF THE COBRA

  Canterbury Tales by Night

  AN ANCIENT EVIL

  A TAPESTRY OF MURDERS

  A TOURNAMENT OF MURDERS

  GHOSTLY MURDERS

  THE HANGMAN’S HYMN

  A HAUNT OF MURDER

  Egyptian Mysteries

  THE MASK OF RA

  THE HORUS KILLINGS

  THE ANUBIS SLAYINGS

  THE SLAYERS OF SETH

  THE ASSASSINS OF ISIS

  THE POISONER OF PTAH

  THE SPIES OF SOBECK

  Constantine the Great

  DOMINA

  MURDER IMPERIAL

  THE SONG OF THE GLADIATOR

  THE QUEEN OF THE NIGHT

  MURDER’S IMMORTAL MASK

  Hugh Corbett

  SATAN IN ST MARY’S

  THE CROWN IN DARKNESS

  SPY IN CHANCERY

  THE ANGEL OF DEATH

  THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS

  MURDER WEARS A COWL

  THE ASSASSIN IN THE GREENWOOD

  THE SONG OF A DARK ANGEL

  SATAN’S FIRE

  THE DEVIL’S HUNT

  THE DEMON ARCHER

  THE TREASON OF THE GHOSTS

  CORPSE CANDLE

  THE MAGICIAN’S DEATH

  THE WAXMAN MURDERS

  NIGHTSHADE

  THE MYSTERIUM

  Standalone Titles

  THE ROSE DEMON

  THE HAUNTING

  THE SOUL SLAYER

  THE PLAGUE LORD

  THE DEATH OF A KING

  PRINCE DRAKULYA

  THE LORD COUNT DRAKULYA

  THE FATE OF PRINCES

  DOVE AMONGST THE HAWKS

  THE MASKED MAN

  As Vanessa Alexander

  THE LOVE KNOT

  OF LOVE AND WAR

  THE LOVING CUP

  Kathryn Swinbrooke (as C L Grace)

  SHRINE OF MURDERS

  EYE OF GOD

  MERCHANT OF DEATH

  BOOK OF SHADOWS

  SAINTLY MURDERS

  MAZE OF MURDERS

  FEAST OF POISONS

  Nicholas Segalla (as Ann Dukthas)

  A TIME FOR THE DEATH OF A KING

  THE PRINCE LOST TO TIME

  THE TIME OF MURDER AT MAYERLING

  IN THE TIME OF THE POISONED QUEEN

  Mysteries of Alexander the Great (as Anna Apostolou)

  A MURDER IN MACEDON

  A MURDER IN THEBES

  Alexander the Great

  THE HOUSE OF DEATH

  THE GODLESS MAN

  THE GATES OF HELL

  Matthew Jankyn (as P C Doherty)

  THE WH
YTE HARTE

  THE SERPENT AMONGST THE LILIES

  Non-fiction

  THE MYSTERIOUS DEATH OF TUTANKHAMUN

  ISABELLA AND THE STRANGE DEATH OF EDWARD II

  ALEXANDER THE GREAT: THE DEATH OF A GOD

  THE GREAT CROWN JEWELS ROBBERY OF 1303

  THE SECRET LIFE OF ELIZABETH I

  THE DEATH OF THE RED KING

  Praise for Paul Doherty

  ‘Teems with colour, energy and spills’ Time Out

  ‘Paul Doherty has a lively sense of history . . . evocative and lyrical descriptions’ New Statesman

  ‘Extensive and penetrating research coupled with a strong plot and bold characterisation. Loads of adventure and a dazzling evocation of the past’ Herald Sun, Melbourne

  ‘An opulent banquet to satisfy the most murderous appetite’ Northern Echo

  ‘As well as penning an exciting plot with vivid characters, Doherty excels at bringing the medieval period to life, with his detailed descriptions giving the reader a strong sense of place and time’ South Wales Argus

  James Charles Patmore

  24th September 1921-8th June 1995

  Beloved husband of Jo, father to Jenny, Andrew and Melissa

  PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS

  THE ROYAL HOUSE (OF AMENHOTEP III)

  CHILDREN OF THE KAP (ROYAL NURSERY)

  THE ROYAL HOUSE (OF AKENHATEN)

  THE AKHMIN GANG

  Introduction

  The Eighteenth Dynasty (1550-1323 BC) marked the high point, if not the highest point, of the Ancient Egyptian Empire, both at home and abroad; it was a period of grandeur, of gorgeous pageantry and triumphant imperialism. It was also a time of great change and violent events, particularly in the final years of the reign of Amenhotep III and the swift accession of the ‘Great Heretic’ Akenhaten, when a bitter clash took place between religious ideologies at a time when the brooding menace of the Hittite Empire was making itself felt.

  I was very fortunate in being given access to this ancient document which alleges to be, in the words of a more recent age, ‘the frank and full confession’ of a man who lived at the eye of the storm: Mahu, Chief of Police of Akenhaten and his successors. Mahu emerges as a rather sinister figure responsible for security – a job description which can, and did, cover a multitude of sins. This confession seems to be in full accord with the evidence on Mahu that has been recovered from other archaeological sources – be it the discoveries at El-Amarna, the City of the Aten, or the evidence of his own tomb, which he never occupied. A keen observer of his times, Mahu was a man whose hand, literally, was never far from his sword (see here).

  Mahu appears to have written his confession some considerable time after the turbulent years which marked the end of the Eighteenth Dynasty. He kept journals, which he later transcribed, probably during the very short reign of Rameses I (c.1307 BC). Mahu’s original document was then translated in the demotic mode some six hundred years later during the seventh century BC, and copied again during the Roman period in a mixture of Latin and the Greek Koine. His confession, which I have decided to publish in a trilogy, reflects these different periods of translation and amendment; for instance, Thebes is the Greek version of ‘Waset’, and certain other proper names, not to mention hieroglyphs, are given varying interpretations by the different translators and copiers.

  In the first part of the trilogy, An Evil Spirit Out of the West, Mahu described the rise and fall of Akenhaten: that Pharaoh’s mysterious disappearance, the attempt by his Queen Nefertiti to seize power, and her brutal and tragic end. In this second part, Mahu reflects on the mysteries surrounding such dramatic events. He and others of the Kap, now Lords of Egypt but bound by the close ties of childhood, are still haunted by what has happened, and fearful of what is to come . . .

  behhu

  (Ancient Egyptian for ‘hyaena’)

  Chapter 1

  Death appears before me today like a firebrand glowing in the dark, like stains on the street, blood glistening on the stone. Death appears before me today like the smoke from a fire, like the hot wind from the desert, like pain from an open wound.

  The words of the ancient poem are often on my lips and echo through my heart, especially last night, when I was woken by the gruesome roaring from the river bank. I knew what had happened. I went out this morning, the Nubian mercenaries accompanying me down through the gates of the small mansion, a small, elegant palace, but still my prison. We went to the edge of the Nile where the land rises, overlooking the great forest of papyrus green, fresh and supple, nourished by the black silt the new waters had brought.

  ‘We heard the sound too,’ the captain of mercenaries murmured.

  I did not reply. I do not speak unless I have to. I spend most of my time writing down the truth, or what I think is the truth, about the Dazzling Time, the Shattering Years, the Season of the Hyaena, or so they describe it, when Akenhaten the Heretic Pharaoh promulgated his belief in the one god, the Aten, and built a new city in the hopes of creating a new empire. A time when all of Egypt, the Kingdom of the Two Lands, Tomery, beloved of the Gods, trembled and shook in his presence. Some chroniclers describe those years as a great shadow racing over the land; others talk of a dazzling burst of sunlight. Whatever they say, the Nile still ebbs and flows and the land is soaked in blood. Ah well! I walked along the bank and glimpsed the crimson froth, pieces of flesh floating amongst the reeds. Once again the Nile had tasted blood; crocodiles had ambushed a hippopotamus cow giving birth amongst the reeds, attacking both mother and newborn. They must have feasted well: wine-red bubbles winked and burst on the river’s surface, whilst the tang of blood was stronger than the rich odours from the disturbed ooze.

  I walked back to the house recalling the words of a holy man who compared life to steps of a pyramid. Each life force, soul or Ka climbs to a different stage: plant, bird, animal or human being. I could well believe it. I have lived amongst crocodiles all my life, hunted with the most savage hyaenas, flown with the heavy-lidded vultures to plunder and peck on the battlefields of life. I, Mahu, son of Seostris of the Medjay, beloved friend of the Pharaoh, former Chief of Police, ‘the Eyes and Ears of the King’, the Overseer of the House of Secrets, Keeper of the Secrets of the Heart. I, who have seen . . . well, I shall tell you what I have seen. After all, I have no choice. The Custodian of the Secrets of the Great House of the new Pharaoh, may the Gods bless his name, has demanded that I confess all, that I sit and whisper my secrets like a penitent would to a priest in a Chapel of the Ear. They have shut me up in this mansion with its cool rooms washed in sky blue and its sweet-smelling gardens to finish this task. I sit in my chamber and stare out of the window. The shutters are removed so as to catch the light of day and the cooling breeze from the river. My eye is caught by the glittering water of the artificial pool, or the various greenery of the trees: acacia, terebinth and sycamore. The call of some animal echoes eerily. I start at a flash of colour as a bird wheels against the sky. I always do that, a legacy from the days of battle when the eye is sharp and the heart keen to catch the whirling flurry of an arrow or the shadow of a falling sword, then I relax, I let my body fall slack.

  The sun sets, the shadows creep across the gardens. My chamber seems to grow, until it is no longer a writing office with painted walls, their refreshing green borders with dark red bands fade away. It becomes a hall from the Underworld, large and cavernous, filled with shifting shadows. I lift my wine cup and toast the dead as they rise, unsummoned, to greet me. They take their places, smile or glower. Pride of place goes to him, the Great Heretic, the heinous sinner, Akenhaten! They dare not mention his name. They call it cursed, a filthy word, yet to me, the name is like the chord of a harp, the tune of a flute, bringing back bittersweet memories. Akenhaten, the Grotesque, the Ugly One, the Veiled One, with his eerie, misshapen body, hips broad as a woman and pendulous chest; arms, legs, fingers and toes long and spidery thin. ‘The Spider’, a priest from the Temple of Hours called him, but what does he know?
What is he but a worm on the earth, a shaven head, with little between his legs, and nothing between his ears?

  Akenhaten enjoyed a majesty all of his own, a splendour and grandeur unknown to many. He comes before me like a statue in a shadowy temple with the sun playing on the red quartzite. I glimpse his high cheekbones, those slanted sloe eyes which seemed to rest on the sides of his face. Yet this is no statue, but a face pulsating with power, whilst the eyes glow with a fever I never truly understood. The lips are not of stone but full, red and pouting. In a temper that long jaw would quiver and the mouth spit out curses like Horus does fire to burn millions. And who comes next? Ay, Akenhaten’s father-in-law. A crocodile amongst crocodiles! Commander of the Chariots, Keeper of the Diadem, Fan-Bearer on the Right-Hand Side of the King, God’s Father, Chief amongst the Hyaenas. A liar, adulterer, fornicator, assassin, lecher, who slept with his own daughter and his daughter’s daughter. Ay, the mongoose man, with the clever, smooth face of a scholar; handsome-eyed and pleasant-mouthed, lean and personable, charming, smiling and utterly untrustworthy, a veritable cobra in human flesh.

  Horemheb comes next; square and thickset, dressed in leather armour, bracelets on his wrists and arms, a war club in one hand, a dagger in the other. Horemheb has a heavy face, a drooping mouth and a square chin; his aggressive eyes glare at you. A man of honour who would do the most dishonourable things because ambition roared in his heart like a fire in the furnace. Of course, behind him (yes, I’ll speak the truth even though he is the father of kings), lean and sinewy, with pointed face and hawk-like nose, eyes glittering with a malice he nourishes like a mother does her babe, Horemheb’s other self: Rameses, sly and crooked, though courageous and fierce in battle, ruthless in enmity. The other Children of the Kap rise to greet me. Oh yes, those I grew up with in the royal nursery after I was placed there by Aunt Isithia, my father’s sister, that witch-woman with the soul of midnight and a heart reeking of ancient sin. If Isithia comes I always ignore her!