Huy dismissed him and rose, Perti with him. “I want to meet my new guards,” Huy said. “Then I’ll leave it to you to introduce them to my old ones.”
“They are outside on the grass,” Perti replied. “With your permission I shall pair them with those who are used to seeing to your safety and begin their rotation at once. For myself, I shall take the first watch on your garden door and be available to the men throughout the night. I pray that this change goes smoothly.”
They crossed the room together. Perti opened the door and the guard stationed outside saluted Huy as he walked out into the cool air. The gardens were shrouded in darkness, but there was a small pool of lamplight not far from where Huy paused, and the sound of low voices.
“You do not need my permission to order the twenty in any way you see fit,” he told Perti as they crossed the springing lawn, and there was a rustle of movement ahead as the men rose. “All I ask is that the soldiers who accompany me each day be seasoned.”
“One of them will always be me,” Perti answered promptly, and Huy smiled to himself at the note of pride in the young man’s words.
Later, after greeting Perti’s contingent, Huy was at last able to enter his bedchamber and close the door behind him. He had digested his meal without difficulty, but the parade of the day’s new faces and decisions had left him eager for the dose of opium Tetiankh was holding out to him as he came up to his couch. “I need a massage tonight,” he said, grimacing from the drug’s bitterness as it slid down his throat. “My neck and shoulders are stiff, Tetiankh. Use plain sarson oil. I don’t want to inhale any perfume apart from the lily.”
“You need to be bathed, Master,” Tetiankh offered as he undid Huy’s kilt and removed it. “You are covered in sweat.”
“So I am, but I have no desire to stand on the slab tonight. Wash me here. Tomorrow the Prince Amunhotep returns to Mennofer. It will be another taxing day.”
As the poppy began to blunt his anxiety and Tetiankh’s expert fingers coaxed the tension from his shoulders, Huy became aware that beyond the quiet of his room the palace still whispered and murmured. How many people serve me now? he wondered. Fifty? More? All with their several tasks, all weaving around one another in this apartment that now seems much smaller than my estate at Hut-herib. Shall I ever know such freedom again? I remember thinking that the Osiris-King Amunhotep the Second had cornered me, put me in a pleasant prison with his gift of a house and land and gold. But compared to my situation now, I was a bird. Here I must be guarded against the jealous, the envious. My food must be tasted, my doors protected. How soon may I beg the King for a house of my own, big enough for everyone surrounding me? Something the size of Heby’s home would suit me well but would not be practical. How soon will my days be filled with the familiar instead of the new, against which I must brace myself? Tetiankh’s touch was withdrawn, and Huy began to doze.
He was almost asleep when he heard the door open and whispers beyond. Drowsily annoyed, he turned over, away from the irritation and the last of the light on his bedside table, but a polite hand descended on his shoulder.
“Master, your pardon, but Captain Perti has sent one of his guards to tell you that he is remaining by the garden door in order to watch a young girl who is demanding to see you and will not go away. He wants to know what your wishes are regarding her.”
“My wishes?” Huy sat up. “He is to send her away at once, and if she won’t go, he is to have her forcibly escorted back to wherever she came from. This is a ridiculous hour to be disturbing the household.”
Tetiankh bowed himself away and Huy lay down again and closed his eyes, but within a few moments he had returned.
“Master, I’m sorry, but Captain Perti asks that you come to him. Two of his men have restrained the girl, but not before her goose inflicted several sharp bites on them. The bird has been tied to a tree and the girl is threatening to scream if you won’t see her. If she does, she will attract the attention of the palace soldiers, not to mention waking up half the residents.”
“A goose?” Huy swung his legs over the edge of his couch. “Give me a kilt, Tetiankh, and then tell Perti’s man that I am coming at once.” The body servant nodded, handed Huy the limp kilt he had removed a short time before, and went out. It must be the girl I saw under the sycamore tree in Yey’s garden, the one who stared at me so rudely, Huy thought as he tied the garment on and followed Tetiankh. Yey has just died and she’s been unable to reach the Queen. But no—that’s silly. Such a message would be carried by Yey’s chief steward. Tiye. That’s her name. He had crossed his dim reception hall and was coming up to the open garden door. Beyond it the light from a lamp Tetiankh was holding showed him two burly men glowering as they managed to control the struggling form between them. The goose was a bundle of grey against the darkness, and honking loudly. Perti swung to Huy, his face set in what Huy rightly took to be anger.
“This being my first watch in your employ, I have probably erred in not dealing with the situation myself,” he said shortly. “I’m sorry, Master. But I don’t yet know how you would want such circumstances handled. The girl looks familiar to me, and judging by the quality of her sheath linen and sandals, she’s from some noble’s house.”
“Don’t call me ‘the girl,’ you ignorant peasant!” the girl shouted. “Of course I look familiar to you, or I would if you ever did anything but polish your weapons and idle about on this doorstep! My father is the noble Yuya! I am Tiye!” Perti did not even glance at her.
“Someone go and silence that bird,” Huy ordered. “And as for you, Tiye, you are rude and thoughtless. This man is Perti, the captain of my soldiers. He is neither ignorant nor an idler. Surely you’ve heard the words from the Wisdom of Amenemopet, ‘Say nothing that gives injury. Do not you yourself cause pain,’ even if you don’t know how to read them. You’re lucky his men did not drag you back to your father at once. Please apologize to him for your insult.”
“Apologize to a servant? I will not! And you’re wrong, Great Seer. I can read the Wisdom of Amenemopet for myself, and quote from it too!” At Huy’s gesture the men began to drag her away. “Oh, all right! All right! Please don’t let that guard hurt Nib-Nib! I apologize for my rudeness, Captain Perti.”
“That’s better. Release her and let her untie that infernal creature!”
At once he was obeyed. Tiye ran to the goose. It stopped squawking and appeared to be nuzzling her bare legs as she freed its leash and led it back to the group of men by the door.
“I really am sorry, Captain,” she said while the goose glared balefully around. “I have a dreadful temper. Father can’t seem to beat it out of me.” She turned to Huy. “‘Be serious of heart, steady your thoughts, and do not use your tongue to steer by.’” She smiled at Huy. “But Amenemopet can be very boring and sanctimonious as well as offering good advice, can’t he, Great Seer? My father has me schooled with my older brother Ay and my younger brother Anen. Anen is friends with your nephew Ramose, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know. What are you doing here without a guard, in the middle of the night?”
“Nib-Nib is a much better protector for me than any guard,” she replied promptly, “and of course I’m here because I want you to Scry for me.”
Huy stared at her. She went on smiling, standing loosely and easily with the goose squatting by her feet, the cool wind stirring her linen against a body still largely bony and unformed yet held with confidence. Only her eyes were truly beautiful, large and perfectly shaped, the brows pleasingly feathered above eyelids that were already full. Her mouth in repose turned down, giving her an expression of dissatisfaction. Her nose was too wide. Yet she exuded the force of a powerful though still embryonic personality that suffused an otherwise ugly little face and made it strangely compelling. Her dark red hair fell to her shoulders and gleamed with health in the guttering lamplight. Her fingers held the leash with confident grace. Mitanni blood, Huy thought. Warrior blood.
“I will Scry fo
r you with your father’s permission, but certainly not tonight,” he said. “Do your parents even know that you’re not on your couch? No, I didn’t think so. Captain Perti and these two men will rouse my litter-bearers and take you home immediately. I hope that Yuya disciplines you severely.”
“So I have walked all this way for nothing?”
“Yes. Don’t do it again.” His glance at Perti was a permission to move. “Your selfishness has robbed me of sleep and given these good men an extra duty to perform. Captain Perti will give you into the care of your father’s chief steward with a full account of your behaviour. Then, if your father agrees, you may send to my chief steward for a suitable time to come to my apartments through the front door. Give no more trouble.”
Her eyes blazed at him and that sullen mouth opened, but the moment of rebellion passed. She bowed. “I have deserved your tongue-lashing, Great Seer. I will behave.”
Perti left Huy’s side and, sending one of his men for a replacement, stepped to Tiye. “By the time your new guard arrives, I will have the bearers up and ready, Master,” he said. Gently he took the girl’s arm. The goose, after giving him one sharp and beady glance, ignored him. The small cavalcade began to leave, but Huy stopped them.
“Tiye, how is your grandfather?” he asked on impulse.
The girl did not turn. “Yey is beyond healing now,” she said sadly. “All that’s left to us will be the Prayers for the Dead in a very short time. Thank you for your concern.”
Huy did not wait to see her swallowed up by the darkness. Bidding Tetiankh close the door, he swiftly crossed his reception hall, entered his bedchamber, pulled off the kilt, and regained the couch. He was already hungry for more poppy. The encounter with Tiye had agitated him, why he did not know. It was something more than having to deal with the spoilt child of an aristocrat. The incident seemed to have a curious aura around it in his mind, as though every word, every action, even the scents carried on the wind and the flicker of the lamp’s flame in a soldier’s hand, were imbued with hidden meaning. Though he was very tired, Huy knew that without his drug he would be unable to sleep. Sending Tetiankh away to get it, sitting under his sheet and waiting, he clearly saw those strong little fingers controlling the recalcitrant bird, the downturned mouth widen in a smile of great sweetness, the big eyes light up in a flash of anger at once subdued.
Tetiankh returned promptly, and as Huy downed the opium, he found himself hoping that Yuya would allow her to come to him for a Seeing. He wanted a glimpse into her future.
4
BEFORE HUY HAD EVEN OPENED HIS EYES the following morning, he could sense a change beyond the walls of his apartment. An air of muted excitement drifted into his bedchamber. When Tetiankh placed the tray of water, fruit, and bread on the table beside the couch and went to raise the hanging on the window, Huy saw that it was still early. The sky was only just beginning to flush pink with the dawn.
“I apologize for rousing you at this time, Master,” Tetiankh said, “but you are required to present yourself at His Majesty’s apartments as soon as you are ready. Chief Steward Nubti respectfully asks that you take no more than two hours for your feeding and ablutions.”
Huy sat up, reaching for the vial of poppy beside the food and welcoming the familiar taste of its bitterness. “I suppose the King will be greeting his uncle informally before the public celebration of the Prince’s return. What are the servants saying about it, Tetiankh?” He drank the water and began to pull the warm bread apart without much appetite. The poppy had set up a dull ache in his stomach, but he forced himself to eat, knowing that he needed sustenance against the demands of what would surely be an exhausting day. Like all the others since I left Hut-herib, he reflected, and pushed the invitation to self-pity away.
Tetiankh was opening Huy’s tiring chests, methodically setting out linen and jewels. “They are curious, of course. Some of them remember the Prince before his exile. Many are behaving like good servants, refusing to gossip, but others whisper that the King has put himself in danger by allowing a contender for the Horus Throne to return to Egypt.” He straightened, frowning down at the pair of ornately decorated sandals in his grasp. “I spoke briefly with Pa-shed yesterday. He’s looking forward to taking up his old position as chief steward to the Prince, who had already sent a formal request on the matter to His Majesty. It seemed to Pa-shed and also to me that all speculation is vain at present anyway. Master, if you wear these sandals you’ll need the moonstone earrings and plenty of gold on your wrists to offset their simplicity.”
Huy told him to choose whatever he felt would be appropriate, and forced himself to swallow a fresh date. Its sweetness revolted him.
By the time he returned to his bedchamber from the crowded bathhouse with Tetiankh, his stomach had ceased to burn and his head was clear. Absently he gazed at his reflection in the small copper mirror propped behind the litter on his cosmetics table while the body servant kohled his eyes and combed and braided his oiled hair. His last encounter with Prince Amunhotep had been rife with his, Huy’s, misery and guilt over failing to expose the younger Prince Thothmes’ sphinx dream as a blatant fabrication designed to advance his wholly spurious claim to the throne. Prince Amunhotep had been far more gentle with Huy than he deserved. Those negative emotions came back to Huy as Tetiankh fastened his thick rope of hair with a narrow strip of leather and a golden frog ornament.
“The gold-bordered kilt, I think, Master, and the green turquoise circlet for your head.” Huy, fighting the vision of his cowardly self, bit back an impatient retort. Tetiankh’s deft hands dressed him, put on him his jewellery and his sandals, pressed perfumed oil onto his neck, arms, and chest, and Huy was assailed by a sudden and infantile desire to get back onto his couch and bury himself in his sheet.
“Tell Paneb to pick up his palette and meet me in the passage,” he said curtly. Inhaling the comforting scent of the lotus now rising from his body, he followed Tetiankh out of the room that was fast becoming his sanctuary.
He greeted his new scribe, who bowed in response. Paneb was wearing a simple but obviously costly linen kilt. A red ribbon matching the sweret bead hanging on his breast went around his forehead. His only nod to his aristocratic roots was the freshly dried orange henna on his palms and simple silver likenesses of Thoth hanging from each earlobe. Silver was worth a great deal more than gold. Huy approved of his new scribe’s restraint, and his mood lightened. Perti and two soldiers waited to form an escort. Gesturing at them, Huy set off to walk to the King’s apartments.
Nubti admitted Huy and Paneb into a quiet room. Huy had expected to face the Prince amid a crowd of courtiers, but only the King, Mutemwia, and a strange man sat around a table laden with sweetmeats and goblets. A few white and blue–liveried servants stood apart but watchful, Pa-shed among them. He was joined by Nubti. Huy extended his arms in an obeisance to the King while behind him Paneb knelt to perform a full prostration. Amunhotep waved Huy forward.
“Get up, Paneb!” he ordered. “I heard that Uncle Huy had hired you. A good choice, the Queen my Mother says. Uncle Huy, you must remember Uncle Amunhotep.” He laughed, a short spurt of boyish hilarity that nevertheless held a note of strain to Huy’s ears as he approached the stranger.
The man rose and turned, and suddenly Huy found himself staring into a face he recognized, older, seamed and darkened, framed by a fall of sleek black hair. It was indeed the Prince. Huy bowed profoundly.
“It’s very good to see you again, Great Seer,” the Prince said, his voice sending waves of both unease and gladness through Huy—unease at the memory of their last confrontation and gladness because his prediction regarding the lifespan of the Prince’s usurping brother had been proved true. “The letter you sent recalling me home was worded in exactly the same way as it appeared in the vision you gave me all those years ago. You are indeed blessed by the gods!”
“Uncle Huy can easily predict anyone’s future,” the King put in. “Sit here beside me,” he ordered H
uy. “Nubti, have wine poured for Uncle Huy, and I should like some more.”
As Huy took the chair Amunhotep indicated, his eyes briefly met Mutemwia’s. She appeared to be at ease. Her small hands rested in her lap, the beringed fingers loosely interlaced. Her gold-shod feet peeped out from under a filmy, pure white sheath. She had crossed them at the ankles. Yet Huy, in the moment before he sank onto the chair, sensed her tension. She moved her head once, a swift admission to him that all was not well. Behind him Huy heard his scribe sink unobtrusively to the matting on the floor. Huy had received permission to speak now that the Prince had addressed him directly. He smiled across at the man’s clear gaze as a servant soundlessly placed a cup brimming with wine into his hand and moved on to refill the King’s.
“I’m very happy to see you safely returned to this blessed country, Prince,” he said. “Your enforced stay in Mitanni was long.”
“It was, and much of the time I was homesick in spite of Artatama’s generosity to me. I’ve done my best to ensure excellent relations between Mitanni and Egypt that I hope will continue into the future.”
“If our vassal King is as loyal to Egypt as Yey’s family has been, we’ll have nothing to worry about,” the King broke in. “Vizier Ptahmose oversees the Office of Foreign Affairs. He tells me that communications from Mitanni are regular and respectful and the annual tribute is always paid promptly.”
The Prince could have told his royal nephew that, given where he had just arrived from, he was perfectly aware of the state of Mitanni’s relations with Egypt. Huy saw the short reminder in the man’s eyes and quick intake of breath before he chose not to give it voice.
“That’s very good, Majesty,” he replied instead. “The purple gold the Mitanni smiths forge is alone worth Egypt’s effort to keep Artatama and his family contented.”
“I don’t suppose you managed to discover the secret of its making. It would have been a triumph for Egypt, not to mention the rest of the world, if you’d brought it home with you.” Amunhotep had swallowed a large gulp of wine. He set his cup back on the table with an unsteady hand and Huy realized that he was quite drunk. The Prince obviously knew it too.
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