by Overton, Max
"But there is more, isn't there, Ahhotep?"
"Yes, my lady. Other merchants have reported the same thing. The robber leader is always cloaked, even if it is very hot, and he wears a veil across his face."
"Oh, well in that case Mentopher is obviously guilty. Hand him over to the Medjay and be done with it." Khu turned to Scarab. "We have surely heard enough of this rumor and innuendo."
"Shh, Khu. Go on."
"A month ago, Ptahwery's caravan was robbed again, by the same band. The leader was cloaked as usual but this time the neckband slipped and Ptahwery caught a glimpse of a scar on the man's chest, just below his left armpit." Ahhotep demonstrated the position.
"Lots of men have scars," Scarab said gently. "Even you, old man."
"True, but few have the sign of Heru branded on their side." Ahhotep glanced up at Khu. "You know that Tjaty Ay availed himself of many of the released criminals when Waenre Akhenaten emptied the prisons? He branded his slaves with the sign of Heru. Well, Mentopher has risen in his master's service but he still retains the Heru brand. It is interesting that this robber also bears it."
Khu frowned. "Ay has many slaves. No doubt some have escaped."
"Surely that is more likely, Ahhotep? It is a great leap from seeing some brigand with a Heru brand to accusing the steward of Tjaty Ay."
Ahhotep snorted. "Do you think I would trouble you if that was all?" he sighed and leaned back against the trunk of the tamarind. "Forgive me, my lady, but of course that would not be enough. Last week I was at Ay's estates across the river. He has a glass foundry there and Ikhnapu, the manager, is an old friend of mine. Over a pot of beer he told of this beautiful glowing yellow glass vessel the steward had brought back from Nubia on his recent trip there. He went and got it, to show me that it really existed."
Scarab waited as Ahhotep closed his eyes, his head against the rough bark of the tree. "And? Did it exist?"
"Oh, yes. I knew even before he brought it out to me. It was mine. I made it myself, here in my own foundry."
"You are sure?" Khu broke in. "I know you turn out good pieces, but could not someone else have made it?"
"It had my mark on it. I put five small lines overlain to form a star on the bottom of my best pieces. It is so others can tell who made it. I made two of these vessels and sent one as a gift to the governor of Qerert, from whose territories the colouring ore came. Ptahwery carried it for me, until he was robbed by the man with the Heru scar."
"And he brought it back to the house of his master." Khu nodded grimly. "How do we handle this, Scarab? Confront Ay or just go to the Medjay with it?"
Scarab shook her head. "Neither. We do not know how high the rot has spread. If it is just Mentopher seeking to augment his wealth, then if we report it, Ay will cast his steward loose to face justice. If Ay himself is involved, then we must carefully consider our actions. One cannot impugn the highest in the land without strong evidence of complicity."
"So what do we do?"
"I will take it to my brother Smenkhkare." Scarab turned back to Ahhotep, who was watching her with interest. "Who else knows of this?"
"Only Ptahwery. He came to me as a friend and I have told only you."
"Not even Nakht?"
"Especially not Nakht. He is young and his craft is starting to bring him to the notice of the rich and powerful. If he suspected Ay of wrongdoing, his face would shout it out though his tongue was silent."
Scarab nodded. "Good. Keep it so. I will talk to my brother and he will decide where we go from here." She rose to her feet and smoothed down her linen dress. "We will take our leave of you, dear Ahhotep. Come up to the palace soon. I would like to commission a glass goblet from you as a gift, and we will need to discuss it."
Ahhotep forced himself up onto tottery legs. "I would be honoured, my lady." He bowed, then stooped to pick up the blue glass cup with a little bit of water still pooled in the bottom. He tipped it out onto the dry ground and handed it to Scarab.
"Please accept this small gift from the workshop of Ahhotep and Son."
Scarab smiled and lovingly cradled the glass in her hands, holding it in a sun-dapple so shards of blue light flashed and spun. "It is beautiful, Ahhotep, but I cannot accept it. It was made by Nakht, by a process that he holds dear. I could not take it."
"It belongs in a king's palace. It would please me...and Nakht, if you would house it in a fitting place."
"Very well. I shall send it to Akhet-Aten, to the young prince Tutankhaten. He will be nine shortly and already he appreciates beautiful things. It will do them good to see that the best things still come from Waset."
Ahhotep beamed, his broad grin of pleasure showing up many gaps in his discoloured teeth. He handed Khu a piece of cloth and the young man carefully wrapped the cup. They bade the old glass-maker farewell and left him underneath the tamarind tree.
"Where to now, Scarab? Back to the palace? We need to get this somewhere safe." Khu hefted the cloth-covered glass.
"Soon. I want to talk to Shenfer, the wine merchant, first. I hear he has a new vintage and I am eager to try it."
"The quickest way would be through the docks if you don't mind a few smells."
"When have I ever minded a few smells, Khu?" Scarab grinned. "Come on, we can cut through here." She led the way down an alley that snaked out of the main business area into the seamier side of the city.
The alley broadened out into a street as it wound its way west toward the river. The streets in this area were potholed and dirty, littered with the refuse of a crowded populace. The people were still plentiful, buying and selling, arguing and conversing, but there was an edge to their voices, their faces harder and eyes more watchful. Children swarmed as they did everywhere but many appeared undernourished and covered in sores. Dogs still fought for scraps but as they neared the river, rats joined them in their search for food and over everything was the roar of flies, darkening the air and adding to the growing stench.
"I'm not sure we should have come this way, Khu. The stink is greater than I thought. Why don't people clean these streets?" Scarab brushed at the flies buzzing around her.
Khu shrugged, kicking at a stray dog that wandered too close. "Where are they going to dump the refuse? At least in the richer areas the merchants hire men to cart it away. Here nobody has the wealth to waste on good works."
"The city fathers should pay...look, Khu." Scarab pointed. "A rat just bit that child." A minor commotion erupted on the far side of the street as the screaming child was snatched up by its mother, the older children stamping and hitting at the rats with yells of laughter. Scarab hurried on, dragging Khu with her.
"Up here." Khu directed them out of the narrow street into one that if not much wider, was at least a little cleaner. Fewer people walked the street and these mostly men. Scarab's clean white linen dress and finely coiffed wig attracted a few looks, as did Khu's brightly coloured kilt, leather sandals and armbands, very evidently of gold.
Scarab looked around her at the buildings, noting the lack of shops and the wide, low windows with women sitting within them. "I know where we are. These houses are brothels and this is the Street of Whores."
Khu looked at her with an expression of curiosity mingled with wariness. "Do you know what a whore is, my lady?"
"Don't start with the 'my lady' again, Khu. Yes, I know what a whore is and I've been here before." Scarab laughed. "If you could see yourself, Khu. I came here when I was a child. Smenkhkare brought me into the city on one of his expeditions and we got lost."
A woman had been staring at the young man and woman talking on the street and as Scarab laughed, she pushed away from the darkened entrance to one of the brothels and stood in front of them, holding the folds of her dirty diaphanous gown closed.
"You is the young lady from the palace, isn't you? They says you listens to common folk."
Khu, after a moment's hesitation, stepped forward and shouldered the woman aside. "Out of here, woman. We have no time for yo
u."
The woman ducked under the man's arm and confronted Scarab again. "Wills you listens to me, then?"
Khu grabbed the woman's shoulder, his face reddening with rage. "I told you to..."
The woman turned on him, cutting his outburst off. "Be quiet boy. I don't know whats you is doing in this street, but I doubts you know what to do with it except pee." She swung back to Scarab who was gaping at Khu's discomfiture. "Please, miss. You is me only hope."
Scarab held out a hand to restrain Khu, and nodded at the woman. "All right, I'll listen. What did you want to say?" Looking at the woman intently, Scarab saw that she was not the young woman she first thought. Heavy makeup, rouged cheeked, stained lips and eyes sticky with kohl imperfectly masked the wrinkles and lines in her face. The hand stretched out imploringly was cracked and worn, trembling slightly, and beneath the dirty and faded gown her body sagged, revealing the ravages of time and ill-use. "What is your name?"
"Tio, miss. I was once a maid to...to Lady Sebtitis, but I fells on hard times."
"You want alms, Tio? I have nothing with me, but if you go to the temple of Amun at sunrise or sunset they will feed you."
"I has been there, miss, and priests or no, theys wants something in return for the god's bounty. No, I don't wants alms, miss, I wants to stop whats I doing."
"So stop," Khu growled. "Seems simple to me, woman. If you don't like whoring, then stop and find yourself honest work." He flushed and bobbed his head apologetically. "Sorry Scarab, I got carried away there, but really, her fate is in her own hands."
"What woulds you fornicating well know about it, boy?" The woman burst into tears and pushed roughly at the young man. "Yous men are all the same. You use us 'til we's worn out thens you casts us aside."
"So what do you want, Tio?" Scarab asked gently. "You want to stop your...your line of work?"
Tio spat at Khu and turned back to face Scarab, the kohl around her eyes streaking her face so that it looked like some harsh caricature of an old woman. She blew her nose with the fingers of one hand and wiped them on her dress. "Yes. Yes, miss, I do. Will you helps me?"
Scarab pursed her lips, a tiny frown creasing her forehead. "What would you have me do?"
"I needs a job, miss. I is willing to do anything." Her face brightened into a gap-toothed smile. "I used to be a lady's maid, p'raps I coulds be one again?"
One side of Scarab's mouth twitched. "I think we won't reach quite so high to start with, Tio. Would you be willing to work in a kitchen?"
"Yes, miss, anywheres. You finds me a job, I works real hard."
"Come up to the palace...you know where the palace is, don't you? Then come to the rear entrance, by the shrine of Nut by the servant's quarters. Ask for the overseer of the kitchens, Horshir." Scarab looked carefully at Tio's face. "Can you remember that? Rear entrance by the servant's quarters, overseer Horshir."
Tio nodded, hope brightening her eyes. "I'll go there right now, miss."
"Not now, Tio. Tomorrow. I must speak to Horshir first, so he knows you are coming. Go at noon tomorrow and do not wear makeup. Wear your cleanest dress."
"Thanks you, miss." Tio sketched a crude curtsey, grinning broadly. She turned to go before stopping and looking back over her shoulder. "Does...does this job pay much, miss?"
"No, Tio. You will get food and a place to sleep. Maybe a little copper if you work hard and do everything Horshir tells you, but it is a start. At least you will not be living here." Scarab waved her hand vaguely at the buildings.
Tio's face fell and tears started trickling down her cheeks again. "I needs to earn gold, miss."
Khu, who had been pacing the street, glaring at anyone who looked in their direction, whipped round and gave a harsh laugh. "Gods, you overprice yourself, woman. You'd be lucky to earn two copper pieces spreading your legs. And you want gold for washing pots and pans?"
Tio spat at him again before dropping her voice so only Scarab could hear. "I owes my...my pimp, miss. I owes him a deben of gold at least. He won't let me go unlesses I pays him."
"How did you come to owe so much, Tio?"
The woman shook her head. "I don't know. He makes me buy me dresses and pots of makeup out of me earnings." She sobbed again. "No matter how hards I works, I always owes him more."
Scarab put a hand on Tio's arm. "Maybe he'll let you pay him off slowly."
"No, miss. He'd kills me first." Tio stared up at Scarab. "Maybes you could talks to him, miss? Make him leaves me alone?"
Khu snorted loudly. "I can see it now, my lady. A princess, sister of the king talking to a common pimp. Why not just pay the man yourself and be done with it?" He strode forward and interposed himself between the two women. "You've talked long enough to this...this person." He rounded on Tio, pushing her back. "What makes you think you can talk to a high-born lady like that? She is sister to the king and a member of his Council. I am a Councilor too, for that matter. And you dare to ask us to talk to your sniveling pimp?"
"He be a Councilor too," Tio yelled.
"What?" Scarab restrained Khu with one hand. "What did you say? Who is your pimp?"
"Mahuhy."
"Councilor Mahuhy?" Khu goggled, his mouth dropping open.
Scarab's mouth curled in distaste. "I knew Mahuhy had unsavory dealings, right from when I first met him, but I did not think he was still a brothel keeper."
"Not just brothels, miss." Tio glanced around at several passers-by who were looking curiously at them, attracted by the raised voices. She lowered her voice. "He has at least three brothels with over twenty girls and...and many other things. He..." Tio shook her head and fell silent.
Scarab regarded her for several minutes before nodding decisively. "I will talk to him, Tio. Come up to the palace tomorrow as we agreed. We will find you a job and work something out with Mahuhy."
"Bless you, miss," Tio murmured and walked slowly back to the brothel as Scarab and Khu walked off down the street. She did not see the two young men leaning against a wall, who immediately started after them.
Khu and Scarab walked in silence, each keeping their own counsel, along several streets, working their way down through the city toward the docks. The air grew moist, a rank stink of mud and effluent and the mingled scents of fish and spices drifted from the wharves, overlain by the sharper smell of pitch. The population changed around them by degrees, fewer women and children venturing onto the streets, their places taken by almost-naked laborers and sailors. Their palace garb drew more looks and Khu started to look around with a touch of unease.
"I don't think we should have come this way," he muttered.
"Nobody should be enslaved like that woman," Scarab replied, ignoring his remark. "It angers me that in a land that is free and just like our Kemet, a woman can be so used by immoral men."
"Eh? Oh, the whore. Well, she chose her life in the first place, Scarab. Women do it all the time."
"If it was solely a matter of her choice, Khu, I would not mind so much," Scarab snapped, a touch of asperity in her voice. "But how much choice does she have? You heard she is in debt. A deben of gold is an enormous sum to a woman who earns no more than a few copper pieces in a day."
"She was born to it. You should not worry about injustice so much, the gods know if a wrong is being done."
Scarab stopped dead in the street and glared at Khu. "You are saying a woman cannot be in charge of her own life, cannot better herself?"
Khu frowned. "We all have a position in life that comes from the gods. It is given to us to change a little, but what would happen if everyone decided to become what they are not? A laborer becoming a noble, a soldier becoming a scribe, or..." he laughed. "Even a fisherman becoming king."
"Or a farm boy becoming a King's Councilor?" Scarab asked quietly. "Do not forget that even Per-Aa, the Great House, my own family, were mere soldiers once. A person is not what they are, Khu, but what they can make of themselves."
"I suppose you are right, my lady." Khu grunted and looked away
. "I still think it is dangerous to seek to change too much."
"How much is too much? Is it too much to change a whore into a kitchen servant? She was once a lady's maid."
"So she claims." Khu raised a hand defensively. "All right, I will allow that some people can change...or be changed, but there are limits. Where would our dear land be if those in power changed?" He grinned suddenly. "Are you thinking of changing, Scarab? Do you have a sudden desire to be a soldier? Or a scribe?"
"Could I not be? At least I have the position and influence to change my station in life if I chose."
Khu snorted. "You could not. You would not be allowed to. You will marry your brother and raise sons to rule Kemet. That is your lot in life."
"If I choose it to be. My brother Smenkhkare will not hold me against my will. I may yet decide to...to, I don't know, marry a soldier or a farmer."
Khu stared at her solemnly. "If you marry your Paramessu, I will dance at your wedding, Scarab, but you know it will never happen. Your brother loves you but you are too important to Kemet. Any man who marries you will have a claim on the throne." He shook his head. "You will marry a king, almost certainly your brother Smenkhkare."
Scarab opened her mouth to defend her soldier love Paramessu, feeling a hot flush of embarrassment stain her cheeks. A man brushed against Khu and he stumbled forward, almost knocking Scarab over. "Careful, Khu," she cried. "What's the matter?"
Khu half-supported himself on Scarab's arm, staring in disbelief at a smear of blood on one hand. "I...I've been cut." He stared at the back of the retreating man, then back at Scarab as another man moved swiftly forward, a dull gleam of copper in his hand. Launching himself forward in a leap that stumbled and faltered, he screamed out a warning, dropping the cloth-covered glass as he did so.
Scarab turned as the man stabbed, the blade ripping through her linen dress. She hit out at the man ineffectually and danced back against the wall of the building on the edge of the street. "Help," she cried out to passers-by. "Help us, good people." With hardly more than a glance in their direction, the street emptied, leaving Khu and Scarab backed up against a wall and three armed men facing them.
