The King's Man

by Pauline Gedge

  “I remember you very well, Amunmose,” the King told him. “You often brought me forbidden sweatmeats when I stayed in Huy’s guest room. Are you happy with the domain you will oversee?”

  “Oh, Majesty, it’s wonderful. Wonderful! Master, there are more and bigger rooms than your house has at home, and several of them give out onto a huge lawn with trees and flowers and two ponds! On this side”—he pointed—“the apartment joins by a door to your servants’ quarters. There’s a door on the opposite wall beyond, but it won’t open.”

  “It will open from the other side.” Amunhotep pulled his arm from Huy’s. “My Majesty Mother’s apartments are between yours and mine, Uncle Huy. If she wishes to speak with you, she will send a servant through. It is the same for me. I don’t spend much time in my quarters, though. I must continue my studies until my sixteenth Naming Day like every other Egyptian pupil, and as well as my lessons, I must give audience to any minister who needs to consult Mother and me. There are a lot of them, not to mention the ambassadors who come and go from barbaric foreign countries.” He turned to face Huy directly. “I must leave you here, but tonight you will be summoned to my rooms. I’ll send you an escort. After the three of us have eaten, I’ll dicate the letter to Anhur. Nubti, explain to Amunmose exactly where your quarters are, and how the stewards in the palace go about their duties. Stay here.”

  Everyone bowed and Amunhotep left. Huy felt that the boy had taken his energy with him. He was all at once tired. A wave of homesickness for his house and Thothhotep’s light voice and Anhur’s lined face washed through him.

  “Master, would you like to see the layout of this place, or would you rather sit quietly while the rest of your belongings are unpacked? Your sleeping room is ready for you now, and Tetiankh is there.”

  Huy fought off his exhaustion. Nubti was waiting in the motionless patience of the good servant. “If Tetiankh is there, I’ll find it myself,” Huy replied. “Nubti, tell him everything he has to know.”

  He wandered farther into the airy room with its white and blue tiles, its pretty red or yellow reed mats, its chairs and tables and lampstands, its cushions stuffed with goose down. The surface of one of the tables formed a sennet board, the figures inside the squares exquisitely painted on bone or ivory, the squares themselves formed of thin, criss-crossing strips of gold. Under the table was a drawer where, Huy surmised, the rods, spools, and sticks for the game were kept. The walls around him did not have much decoration on them. They were broken by rectangled doorways leading into other rooms and perhaps even to rooms beyond them, until there was a solid wall against which some noble lived. The layout was simple, pleasing, and easy to grasp.

  Huy found his body servant folding linen in a large, dim room dominated by a capacious couch with its head pushed against the far wall. Over it on the ceiling the body of the goddess of the sky, Nut, was arched, surrounded by stars, the sun just about to disappear into her mouth. Pink light, the early light of sunset, dribbled down from the three clerestory windows cut high in the only wall clearly fronting the garden Amunmose had mentioned, and pooled weakly on the blue and white tiling of the floor. The table by the couch was gilded, and already held Huy’s night lamp. So was the chair resting against the right-hand wall, with two of his chests beside it. Tetiankh had already dressed the couch and placed Huy’s shrine with its likeness of Khenti-kheti against the last piece of free wall.

  The air smelled faintly of vinegar and jasmine. The jasmine must be flowering outside, Huy thought. It had been years since he had worn that particular perfume, not since the disastrous evening at Nakht’s house when Nakht had refused him a position in his Governor’s office and Anuket had kissed him so deliberately and so coldly in the dark of her father’s garden. Huy hated this room at once, then silently reprimanded himself. You are tired and a stranger here. Besides, you know there won’t be much time for sleeping, don’t you?

  “I need a small dose of poppy and an hour on the couch, Tetiankh,” he said, stepping reluctantly forward. “Go and find out from Royal Steward Nubti where the palace physicians keep their mortars and pestles and whatever else you’ll need. Later, you and I and Amunmose must discuss the safety of our belongings, how to keep everything secure, but for now just let me rest.” He stripped off his kilt, sandals, and jewellery, placed his headrest on the couch, and lay down, watching the glow from the two standing lamps in the room gradually seem to brighten as the daylight waned.

  When Tetiankh returned, Huy drank then dozed, listening as the man set up Huy’s cosmetics table, opened a chest to retrieve a clean kilt, brought out a piece of jewellery with a soft clink. There was sanity in the gentle sounds, and relief from heartache in the drug. He came to himself with a start when a hand descended on his naked shoulder.

  “Master, I let you sleep for two hours, but I dare not make you late for the King,” Tetiankh said. “A servant from the nearest bathhouse is here with hot water. I will refresh you.”

  Later, in white kilt and shirt, a plain gold chain hanging with the sa around his neck and golden ankhs in his earlobes, his eyes kohled and his hair newly braided, he sat in his new reception room, now full of shadows, glad to be away from the aroma of jasmine and feeling wholly unreal.

  A herald came for him not long afterwards, and by the time he had followed the man the short distance to the King’s dully gleaming electrum doors, he was familiar with the way. He entered the royal apartments to a blaze of cheerful lamplight and the pleasant trills of a plucked harp. Nubti flowed towards him, reverenced him, and led him to where Amunhotep and Mutemwia were waiting, three little dining tables laden with fresh flowers behind them.

  Huy made his obeisance to them, and Mutemwia held out both silver-hung arms. Astounded, Huy found himself loosely embraced, enveloped in her perfume, the blue enamel flowers surrounding her coronet brushing the middle of his chest. His own arms went around her automatically. It was like holding a child. She stepped back, but only a little. “I have missed you a great deal, Seer Huy.” She smiled. “Many times during the worries of the past months I have needed your counsel and gone without. I hope you will be happy here. I will do everything I can to make it so.” The tiny hands laden with rings flew apart in an expansive gesture. The beautiful black eyes were full of warmth.

  Huy bowed profoundly. “Majesty, you are generous and kind,” he replied. “Know that I will serve my King and you for as long as my love and devotion are needed.”

  “Let us eat together, then.” Still smiling, she indicated the floor, and once she and Amunhotep had settled themselves behind their tables, he joined them.

  At once the room sprang to life with a file of servants carrying trays that filled Huy’s nostrils with appetizing aromas. He suddenly realized that he was hungry. He was offered date, palm, grape, shedeh, or fig wine. The choice of delicious salads at that time of the year was large. Ox liver with parsley and onions, roast duck in a cumin and marjoram sauce, grilled fresh inet fish, its skin crisp with thyme and coriander, were all paraded before him. The meal ended with a small bowl of dried figs and currants in a date syrup. Huy, leaning back replete, realized that nothing he had eaten had been tasted, and then decided that it did not matter. Their Majesties would have their own tasters, and any meal shared with them was safe—unless one or both of them might want to poison him in the days ahead. He stirred uneasily, dismissing the ridiculous thought.

  Amunhotep was talking about his chariot horses. Mutemwia was watching him, her rings glinting as she moved her wine cup slowly to and fro. Huy, glancing from one to the other, saw more than the physical likeness between them. Both carried their noble blood with a grace Amunhotep was just beginning to display, but now a subtle aura of easy confidence surrounded them, the mutual satisfaction of a task accomplished. Huy did not feel left out; indeed he had understood Mutemwia’s goal and the caution with which she had proceeded to accomplish it, and had complied without words. He came to himself with both pairs of large black eyes fixed on him inquiringl
y.

  Amunhotep laughed. “Have you eaten too well, Uncle? What were you thinking?”

  “I was remarking to myself on the many similarities between you and your Majesty Mother, and yes, I have eaten far too well. My physician will compel me to fast all day tomorrow.” The comment was a small test. Huy had not known that until the words left his mouth. Would Mutemwia tell him that the royal physicians would be caring for his health from now on? Or would she not care, seeing that her network of spies was incredibly efficient? Mutemwia said nothing.

  The King rose and Huy followed. “I keep forgetting that I must not call you Uncle anymore now that my blood relative is returning,” Amunhotep said ruefully. “I’ll miss that freedom, but I’ll enjoy calling you Amunhotep. Now I want to dictate to Anhur, and afterwards my Mother wants to speak with you in her quarters.”

  Mutemwia bowed to him then kissed his cheek. “Sleep well, my son.” Acknowledging Huy’s obeisance with the slight tilting of her head, she walked towards the door. At once a bevy of servants followed behind her. Huy recognized Nefer-ka-Ra, her scribe, in the group. The door was closed.

  Amunhotep beckoned Nubti. “Go and find the Seer a palette and bring papyrus and ink as well.” He turned back to Huy as the steward floated away. “After you’ve taken down my letter, we’ll play a game or two of sennet. I still can’t go to my couch until the middle of the night. Neither can my Mother, and it’s always a struggle to leave my sheets in the morning. I do like those rare days when my presence isn’t needed to give audience or bless some god’s festival and I can go on snoring! Mother deals with the administrators and then tells me what she’s done. If I disapprove, I must tell her why and give her strong arguments or she overrides me. She’s making sure that when I reach my majority and have full control over Egypt, every official, both governmental and religious, owes me something and is utterly loyal to me. So many of them!” He cocked an eye at Huy. “You are exempt,” he added. “You are my scribe because I love you and you are Egypt’s Great Seer and I don’t like being here without you.”

  “But my brother Heby and my nephews are not exempt.”

  “Well, partially.” The King’s glance became shrewd. “They are your close kin, therefore I feel warmly towards them, and Heby has made an honest and competent Mayor for Mennofer. Ramose is still only eleven and cannot yet perform any duties as a steward in the Mansion of the Aten at Iunu, but his appointment lets everyone know that I intend to personally supervise the worship of that god.”

  Huy looked at him curiously. Was Ramose’s elevation Mutemwia’s idea or Amunhotep’s? he wondered. Would I have been as astute at twelve years old? Or is Amunhotep so anxious to show me how capable to rule he’s becoming that he is taking his mother’s farsightedness for his own?

  “I think the choice of your other nephew for Superior King’s Scribe of Recruits is very good, don’t you?” the King went on. “He’s a competent-enough scribe at twenty, but added to that is his reputation among the officers and men. He’s comfortable with them. He shares the soldiers’ rough jokes and speaks to the officers in the language of the barracks and the training ground. Ah! Here’s a palette for you.”

  Huy was about to say that his nephew Amunhotep-Huy was a harsh, quick-tempered man, but Nubti was handing him a scribe’s tools and withdrawing.

  “Tomorrow you can use your own palette. I’m ready to begin.”

  Hastily, Huy went to the floor, murmured the usual prayer to Thoth, and picked up a brush. So it begins, he thought as the King began to pace. Am I still within your will, mighty Atum?

  When the letter was finished, Amunhotep took it, beckoned to Nubti, and handed it over. “Take it to Nebmerut for sealing and then to Maani-nekhtef before you retire,” he ordered Nubti. “Now, Uncle, we will play sennet.”

  No we won’t, Huy thought. If I don’t lay down the white cord delineating my boundaries now, this wonderful boy will take over my life completely. Placing the palette on one of the tables, he faced Amunhotep. “Majesty, I am fifty years old,” he said steadily. “If I am to serve you as I would like, I must keep my hours of rest intact as often as possible. This is my first evening here. I’m tired and just a little homesick, and I must speak with the Queen before I retire. Please dismiss me.”

  An expression of sullenness flitted across the intelligent features. King and scribe stared at one another in a pregnant silence. Then Amunhotep dropped his gaze. “You’re right,” he admitted. “You reprimand my selfishness as gently as you used to do when I misbehaved in your house. I am corrected. Make your reverence, go to my Mother, then sleep without danger. The servants fall over one another, so be sure to ask for whatever you need. Until the morning, Amunhotep.”

  Huy bowed, straightened, and smiled. The relief he felt did not show on his face. “Majesty, I will gladly be called by your powerful name when dealing with everyone but you and the Queen your Mother. I’ve been Uncle Huy to you for years, but now you are almost a man I would like you to call me just Huy.”

  Amunhotep returned Huy’s smile. “I’d like that too. Your name holds many good memories for me.” He turned away.

  Huy backed down the room then strode to the door. He is still irritated at my presumption to gainsay him, he thought as the soldier pushed it open and Huy walked through. Nevertheless, I cannot allow him to control me or he will begin to believe that if the Great Seer is biddable under his hand, then bending everyone else to his desires is permissible. I hope Menkhoper and his other tutors are still able to hold on to the invisible leash. Besides, if I always give in to him, I’ll be no use to him as an adviser. His respect for me will erode. In the passage he paused and one of the guards approached him.

  “I am to escort you to Her Majesty’s apartments,” he said with a bow. “Her walls abut yours, Great Seer, so if I take you there today, you will need no help in the future.” Huy followed the wide, muscled back as the man took him not far past his own quarters and halted before another pair of electrum doors. Huy was too tired to scan the figures beaten into the metal except to notice that they wore feminine dress. Again there were guards and again a consultation with someone beyond. A young man in an ankle-length white sheath bordered in blue emerged, bowing several times.

  “I am Ameni, Chief Steward of Her Majesty, Great Seer,” he said. “You are expected. Please enter.” Huy did so, wondering if Pa-shed, the steward who had served Mutemwia in his master’s absence, was even now preparing the Prince’s old quarters for his return.

  Finding himself alone, he paused in the middle of the room and looked about. The Queen’s apartments were little different from those of her son. The evidence of opulence was everywhere, but softened by the influence of a woman. Or women, Huy mused, his gaze travelling his surroundings. Mut, Hathor, Sekhmet, Isis, Neith, all goddesses, graced the white-painted walls, making them bright with the vivid colours of jewelled belts and coronets. The lampstands flowed, the fine alabaster lamps themselves curved into flower buds, fruit, and bulbous seed pods. A shrine at the far end was closed, but the air held a faint whiff of incense smoke. Yellow reed mats covered the tiled floor. Several cushions were thrown about between the tables and intricately inlaid chairs.

  All the apertures leading to other rooms showed darkness but one. A shaft of light came from it, mingling with the many lamps burning around Huy. As he stepped towards it, Mutemwia appeared, her diaphanous sleeping robe momentarily blurring its radiance. Her tiny feet were bare. She wore no adornment, and her hair fell in a gleaming shower to her shoulders. Watching her, Huy realized that she reminded him of someone, but he could not remember who that might be. He felt immediately at ease with her, this most powerful woman, even though she looked to be no more than a vulnerable girl. He bowed, smiling, and she waved him forward.

  “This is like old times, isn’t it, Huy, when I used to wander about your house and garden at night, and we would often meet because you could not sleep and I was not tired.” She raised her chin at the nearest wall. “These are the r
ooms reserved for the Chief Royal Wife of the King. Neferatiri used them last, and as my son is still only twelve and will not be taking any wives for a while, I have sent Neferatiri back to the women’s quarters. As a dowager Queen she is entitled to wear the royal vulture on her head. I am perfectly happy to keep the gazelles’ heads. Sit down, my friend. It’s late and I will not hold you with silly chit-chat. Thank you, Ameni.” With a start Huy saw the steward at his elbow, placing beer and water on the table. “Are you hungry, Huy? Would you rather drink wine? No? Then you may go, Ameni. When the Seer leaves, summon Tekait.”

  The man made no sound as he crossed the long floor and went out. Mutemwia poured water for them both. Huy drank thirstily, but the Queen’s cup remained full.

  “The King and I have tasks for you,” she began, pulling a footstool towards herself with her naked toes and settling her feet on the cushion. “Firstly, I have prepared for you a list of High Priests and ministers in positions of responsibility at court. The King inherited some of them from his father. Some of them I myself have appointed. We want you to give audience to each of them. We need to know who will remain loyal to my son, who will work honestly and diligently, whom to trust. I have determined these qualities as best I can. You may See for them if requested, but if there is anything detrimental towards the Horus Throne in the visions, you must bring a record of them to me. You need not bother with my list tonight. Bring it to the Hall of Audience when the King sits. Maani-nekhtef will call out the names of those in attendance as they approach the Horus Throne. Nebmerut will note down their needs, and if necessary the King will see them in their several offices. Nebmerut, Beloved of the King, Royal Scribe and Seal Bearer,” she explained in answer to Huy’s raised eyebrows. “He will work under you or take your place if you are ill or absent. You will have much to do with him, so learn his character well.”