Free Nefertiti by Nick Drake Page A

of flies renewed their disgusting celebrations. The dog moved forward to sniff at the head. Mahu uttered a sharp command and it returned obediently, still pant ing, to its master's feet.
    Mahu looked at Khety, Tjenry and me, daring us to speak. My mind was racing like a crazed dog, driven on by fear. Suddenly a new thought flashed into my head.
    'This may not be the Queen,' I said.
    Mahu stared at me. 'Explain that.' He sounded nasty.
    'The body seems to be that of the Queen, but the face is destroyed. Our faces are our identities. Without one, how do we know for certain who is who?'
    'She is wearing royal clothes. That is her hair, that is her figure.'
    There was tension in Mahu's voice. Did he prefer her dead? Or did he just not want to be proved wrong by me?
    'Certainly those are her clothes. Yes, it seems to be her. Nevertheless, I need to examine the body and conduct a full investi gation in order to confirm the identification.'
    Mahu considered me, his gold eyes transfixed on mine. You are struggling, Rahotep, like a fly in honey. Well, you had better get to work, quickly. If you are right, which seems impossible, then there is more to this than meets the eye. If you are wrong, which seems certain, and Akhenaten, his family and the whole world mourn the loss of the Queen, you know exactly what to expect.'
    We took her body, covered with a cloth, on a cart to a private chamber of purification, in conditions of absolute secrecy. It was the coldest room that could be found. Its limestone walls were built into the earth and gave off a ghostly chill. The candle flames shivered silently in the sconces, giving light without heat. I found linen bandages stored in a cupboard; jars of dry natron, cedar oil and palm wine stood on shelves; iron hooks for removing brains, incision knives and small hatchets hung beneath. Along another wall were ranged canopic jars for organs, their lids decorated with images of the Sons of Horus. Along a third wall, propped up in a line like an identity parade, was a variety of rich men's coffins decorated in gold and lapis, and above them shelves of mummy masks. And when I opened boxes I found, unusually, rank upon rank of glass eyes staring up at me, awaiting the sockets of the newly dead to allow them a vision of the gods.
    There was a sudden commotion at the door: the Overseer of the Mysteries was demanding admittance to his office. When he saw
    Mahu he shut up instantly, and after a word from Tjenry he backed out, apologizing as he went. Mahu then turned to us. 'There are guards outside. I want you to report to me within one hour.' And he went, taking some of the room's darkness and chill with him.
    I turned to the body of the woman on the wooden embalmer's table. The flies had moved on to other, richer feasts, and the ruins of her face - black and crimson and ochre, the eyes gone, the brow and nose shattered, the lips and mouth smashed - remained clear. In a few spots the brain itself was exposed. I examined the features of the injuries. Her jaw and forehead still bo re the rough imprints and inden tations of something like a large stone, but there seemed to be no other mortal injuries. So that was how she died. She would have seen her own death coming. A brutal and not especially quick ending.
    I quickly poured a sufficient quantity of natron powder mixed with acid over the face, in order to eat away the ruined flesh and congealed blood and expose the bone structure and any remaining skin. While the natron did its work, I turned to Tjenry, who was staring at the corpse with a young person's fascination.
    'What would we do without this powder? It is found on the shores of ancient lakes, and the wadis at Natrun and Elbak are the finest sources. It cleanses our skins and brightens our teeth and breath, yet it also makes glass possible. Is it not interesting how something may look like nothing but may have many powers?'
    Tjenry was still looking uncertain about all these obviously new experiences.