“Rise, Uncle Huy,” Amunhotep said. “I’ve missed you and worried about you and prayed to Amun for your safety among the barbarians in Rethennu and beyond.”
“Your Majesty is kind.” Huy rose to his feet. “I missed you also. You would have found much to intrigue you in the wilds beyond your eastern border.”
“No doubt.” Huy, invited by the Regent’s gesture to step closer, now saw that the young man looked distressed rather than tired. Amunhotep straightened and uncrossed his legs. His kohled eyes under the rim of the blue and white striped linen helmet were puffy. “You know about Anhur?”
“Yes. There was a message from Thothhotep waiting for me when I returned.” He turned to Mutemwia. “Majesty, there is just enough time for me to travel to Nekheb and attend Anhur’s funeral. He was so much more than my friend. Please give me permission to go.”
“I’ll come with you,” Amunhotep said loudly. “I have wept for him a great deal since the news came to me. The Mitanni ambassador dared to ask me if I was ill.” He flung a challenging glare at his mother. “There’s no use asking the Queen if we may make the journey. She has already refused my request to do so.”
“Sit down, Huy.” The voice belonged to Mutemwia. Her doll-like face was set, the hennaed lips pursed, the vulture-spangled forehead furrowed. Huy did as he was told, taking the proffered seat opposite Amunhotep. “I need not explain myself to you,” she continued. “Nor to you, my son. Not for another three years. If you cannot see the wisdom in my decisions, you obviously still need the guidance of your teachers.” Stepping quickly to Huy, she placed her hands on either side of his neck. Her palms were hot. It was a shockingly intimate action that took Huy by surprise so that his own hands came up to grasp her wrists. Her delicately chiselled features were so close to his that he could smell spiced wine on her breath. “You are indispensible to me,” she said quietly. “Allowing you to travel with Ptahmose was necessary, but while you were gone my mind was filled with every disaster that might have befallen you. I cannot permit another long voyage unless it is in the urgent service of this country. You surely know that I was fond of Anhur also.” She moved back, and Huy repressed the urge to touch his neck where he could still feel the pressure of her rings.
“She told me much the same thing,” Amunhotep said irritably. “Here, have some nedjem wine and we can at least drink to Anhur’s Beautification.” Nubti came forward swiftly at his words, but Amunhotep was already filling a silver cup. He pushed it across the table at Huy, who raised it, mirroring the King’s action, and took a mouthful. It was indeed nedjem, sweetened, a fig wine far too honeyed for Huy’s taste, although the blend of spices in it was welcome. He replaced it carefully on the slippery surface of the ivory-inlaid table.
“Majesty, such vain imaginings are unlike you,” he said to Mutemwia. “I am under the sunshade of Atum; and Anubis, though he often chastises me during the Seeings, makes sure that I come to no harm. Atum has imbued me with heka to ward off the blows of fate.” It’s true, isn’t it? My destiny to advise these royal beings has been clear to me since Mutemwia put little Amunhotep into my care every year, and as I age I am able to look back and see the god’s gift of magic that has averted every danger in my life. I have not said any of this aloud before. “The Kings of Egypt are also blessed with Atum’s heka. Weret Hekau Great of Magic does not leave their side unless they commit some terrible blasphemy against Ma’at. Where are your fears coming from? Your dreams?”
He was desperate to change her mind. He wanted to be with Thothhotep in her little house beside the river, to walk behind Anhur’s coffin as he was carried to the hollowed-out cave Huy’s gold had prepared for his beloved captain’s resting place, to make the offerings of food, wine, and oil. He wanted to hold Thothhotep’s skinny, wiry body against his own, to see her reach up to tuck the one unruly strand of her short hair behind her ear in the unconscious gesture he had loved. I’m homesick for the past, he realized suddenly. Not just missing the peace and orderliness of the estate, but genuinely ill with desire for it. Such disorder in my ka is an invitation to attacks from the demon Khatyu in spite of Atum’s protection.
Mutemwia was shaking her head. The silver vulture likenesses of Mut tinkled dully against one another. “No. But surely you see that the King must stay here and he must be seen to have the god’s protection your presence provides. Besides, I have work for you. Have you become proficient in Akkadian yet? Did your scribe bring me a copy of your report?”
The subject of a journey to Nekheb was closed. The King audibly blew out his lips and sank his nose into his wine. Huy grimly forced down a spurt of pure anger. Was she exercising her power frivolously or was there a legitimate reason for keeping both the King and him under her scrutiny? Huy turned his mind to the report with difficulty. Mutemwia’s scribe glided out of the shadows at her words and settled beside her feet. He opened his palette, and in a moment the sound of burnisher against papyrus brought Huy entirely to himself.
“I have become reasonably proficient in reading and writing Akkadian, and Minister May’s scribe seems content with my atrocious accent,” he replied stiffly. “Paneb has brought my report for your appraisal, but I would like to summarize it. I have recommendations to make.”
“Good.” She sat, drawing the folds of her sheath across her invisible knees. The ankh on its silver chain slid sideways to swing gently between her thigh and the floor. The scribe dipped his brush in his black paint and waited. Paneb also waited, not for the report but to record any conversation that would surround it.
“The Scribe of Recruits is honest and capable in his responsibilities to the army and navy,” Huy began. “The officers clearly respect him and he is able to speak the language of the barracks with the common soldiers. However, in bringing a fresh eye to the fortification of the northern Delta, and in visiting the garrisons along the Horus Road, I noted some concerns that did not necessarily escape the Scribe’s attention but—”
Amunhotep interrupted him. The King had emptied his wine cup and was now leaning back in his chair with arms folded. “You don’t need to defend the ability of my Scribe of Recruits to do his job efficiently, Uncle. Why do you think my Mother the Regent promoted him? If you are going to hedge your assessment of the state of my northern borders with an unwarranted concern for your nephew, I’m not going to be able to trust what you say. Where does your first obedience lie? Do you think that there is a conflict between loyalty to Egypt and loyalty to family?”
Huy looked at him, startled. He’s growing up at last. One day soon he will equal his mother’s shrewdness. Huy gave up any attempt at diplomacy. “Amunhotep-Huy expressed a fear to me that you may be planning to rob him of his rank. Because you had ordered him not to discuss deployments or anything else connected to Egypt’s military forces, he assumed that you were about to give me his position.”
“The arrogant idiot. If I choose to demote him, I will do so. Am I not both Horus-in-the-Nest as I wait for my sixteenth Naming Day and the Incarnation of blessed Amun? And who is he?” He uncrossed his arms and held out both hennaed palms to face Huy. “Enough! My Mother the Regent refuses to convey preferment on anyone, noble or commoner, who is not able to perform the tasks of the office to which they aspire. The only exceptions have been the members of your family, Uncle Huy, and even then, although their promotions were commanded in order to induce you to leave Hut-herib, they have been given the titles and tasks equal to their talents. That includes your nephew, rough-spoken though he is.” He refolded his brown arms.
“My son is entirely correct,” Mutemwia said. “If we decide to send Amunhotep-Huy away, then we will. Please proceed.”
“I apologize,” Huy offered. “Very well. My first area of concern is the staffing of the garrisons along the Horus Road into Rethennu. Most of the soldiers stationed in them are mercenaries. During rotations they are free to go home to Rethennu, Tjehenu west of the Delta—there are even a few whose families live in Zahi, beyond Rethennu. I’ve watched t
hem with the many foreign herdsmen returning home along the Road. There is an acquaintance between them. If they belong to the same tribe, there is amity. Unfortunately, it was the wrong time of the year to observe the relationship between them as the herds are driven into the Delta, but I’m willing to wager that whole families slip past the garrisons without being added to the tally. Judging by my comparison of the lists compiled during the spring months of Peret and the hundreds of foreigners I saw drifting away from northern Egypt, the inventory is scanty at best. The garrison officers cannot oversee their portions of the Road all the time. Your Majesty might be advised to think about the history lesson that dealt with the occupation of Egypt by the ancestors of these same tribesmen. Take native soldiers from our five military divisions and rotate them through the garrisons. The guarding of the Horus Road is our only protection against enemies from the east. No desert gives them pause as it does in the west. Nor is there a Great Green as there is to the north. The Horus Road is necessary, but it is a weak link in our defences.”
He paused and drank from the water Nubti had quietly placed by his hand. Mutemwia’s scribe put down his brush, flexed his fingers, and selected a new one. Neither the King nor the Regent spoke.
“I learned that Your Majesty already supplies soldiers to both the city of Byblos and the Amurru to strengthen our northeastern flank,” Huy went on. “I suggest that you consider opening diplomatic negotiations with the chieftains of not only Zahi but also the Shinar in northern Zahi, and the Katna, Niy, Senzar, Kinanat, and Nukhashshi. All of them are small tribes living within the Bend of Naharin, the region between the two great northern rivers. All of them could be either conquered or suborned by Mitanni. Egypt enjoys friendly relations with Mitanni. Its King imagines himself equal in every way to you, Amunhotep. Egypt and Mitanni have trade agreements with each other. Mitanni is now a kingdom to be reckoned with. Two Osiris-Kings conquered it and exacted tribute from it, but the tribute has become nothing more than a traffic of goods between our two realms. If Mitanni chooses to expand, it will engulf those little tribes. Better to prepare for such an eventuality. Send their petty chieftains gifts—gold, papyrus, linen. Invite them here so that they may see Egypt’s power for themselves. Mitanni must not grow.” Huy’s voice had become a croak and his nerves were screaming for opium.
“Is that all, Huy?” Mutemwia asked as Huy drained the water jug and Nubti whisked it away to be refilled.
Huy shook his head. “One more thing to try your patience. You doubtless know that after Ptahmose and my nephew left for the southern sepats, I toured the garrisons and naval stations along the northern shores of the Delta. I talked to many captains, including Naval Troop Commander Nebenkempt and Hatmesha, who was your father’s Standard Bearer on his ship Mery Amun and who commands two hundred and fifty marines. He is an extremely talented naval officer and deserves to be promoted. It was pointed out to me that shipments of copper from Alashia are often either late or do not arrive at all because of the pirates infesting the Great Green between Alashia and the coast that reaches from northern Zahi to our own beloved Delta. Nebenkempt and Hatmesha both agreed that Alashia needs Egypt’s help. So far the pirates have not dared to attack our coastal settlements, but they grow in strength and daring. I suggest permitting both nobles to begin serious battle training for the sailors and marines under their authority, and a letter to the ruler of Alashia from you, Majesty, assuring him of Egypt’s assistance. We need his copper. That is all.” The jug of water had reappeared. Huy drank again, then sat slumped in his chair. The day had been long and fraught with emotion. All he wanted to do was to take his poppy and go to sleep.
“Thank you. I am aware of Nebenkempt’s value and his future connection to your brother Heby’s family as the father of Amunhotep-Huy’s proposed wife Henut-nofret.” Mutemwia leaned forward and put a hand briefly on his knee. “Your assessment is of great value and we will consider your advice. Now we will speak of the King’s marriage contract with Tiye.”
Amunhotep groaned. “Must we do so now, Mother? Uncle Huy looks exhausted and my head is beginning to ache. The Mitanni ambassador is doubtless an important man, but his general conversation is boring, and apart from his vast thirst for the sermet beer our women love, he is uninteresting. I’ve taken in every one of Huy’s words and tomorrow you and I will go over them. Let me play sennet with Nubti and then go to my couch. For once I am actually weary before the horns sound midnight.”
Mutemwia ignored him. “I want you to take control of her education and well-being, Huy, as you did for my son. Examine her tutors for their suitability to teach a Queen. Add whatever subjects to her schooling you deem necessary. I thank the gods that Yuya was enlightened enough to allow her to study with her brothers. Talk to her servants and dismiss any whom you do not like. She is to have no scribe of her own. If she wishes to dictate, she must use one of the harem scribes and her letters must be turned over to you for reading. Confer with Userhet regarding her care. He is young but a talented Overseer of the King’s Harem. Tiye’s mother is a student of all forms of protocol and is of course sharing an apartment with her daughter. She has many titles. Her voice is remarkable. She is Chief of the Entertainers of Amun and Singer of Hathor, among other things. She was raised in the King’s Harem and will be quite at home there. Get to know her.”
Amunhotep grunted. “King’s Harem! The women in there belonged to my father, including Neferatiri and my bothersome sister Iaret. She’s been sulking ever since word of my contract with Tiye was announced. I told her I’d make her my second wife, but she swore at me and then told me that as she has royal blood in her veins unlike that Mitanni upstart Tiye, she would be Chief Wife no matter when I married her.” He grinned wryly. “There’s no spite like a woman’s spite. I have no desire to go anywhere near the harem.”
For the first time that night Mutemwia laughed, but she quickly sobered again. “I warned you that Tiye’s foreign blood would cause trouble,” she said to Huy. “My fear is that Iaret will attempt to force a marriage with the King’s blood-uncle Prince Amunhotep and then do her best to foment a war. Watch her carefully, Huy. The Prince has retired to his estates as he wanted to do, but his visitors must be noted and his correspondence opened.”
So the old fear is still alive in you, Huy thought. Perhaps in both of you. I understand now why I am not permitted to go south for Anhur, but I resent it just the same. He stood and bowed, feeling stiff. He was still very thirsty. “I am Your Majesty’s loyal servant,” he said to Amunhotep. Then, turning to Mutemwia, he inclined his head. “I will do my best to comply with all this, but you have placed a heavy responsibility on my shoulders.”
“I’ve only just begun to make use of you, my dearest brother.” She came up to him and, rising on tiptoe, kissed him on both cheeks.
I gave up the right to order my life as I chose, he thought as the silver vultures decorating her brow touched him as briefly as her soft lips. She calls me brother, the most affectionate term used between lovers. Does she see me as a man, then, in spite of the restriction the god has placed upon me, although she knows about it? Or is she clumsily throwing me a crumb of sweetness after loading me with so many tasks? I do not think so. When I examine our history together, I see only a warm companionship restricted solely by the difference in our stations.
“Seneb will examine you tomorrow morning,” she told him. “Go now. Take your poppy. I shall see you in the Office of Foreign Correspondence after the King’s hour of audience.”
Huy did not bow again. Nubti was already holding open one of the high double doors. With Paneb behind him, Huy bade the steward a good night and passed through.
Out in the passage, Perti and his guards assembled quickly. She has left her perfume on my skin, Huy thought as they set off on the short walk to his apartments. Lotus for nobility, Narcissus for simplicity, Henna for beauty. Gods, I’m tired! In his bedchamber, Tetiankh waited with warm water to wash the paint from his face and opium to ease him into sleep, but
Huy did not sleep. Mutemwia’s instructions became little more than noise in his head as Anhur took form in his mind’s eye, his big hand resting on the hilt of his sword, a smile of greeting lighting his face. Towards dawn Huy at last fell into an uneasy sleep, but sorrow and nostalgia imbued his dreams and he was glad to wake just as the sun lipped the eastern horizon.
Physician Seneb was waiting to assess the state of his health before he had even eaten the meal Tetiankh set beside him, and Huy succumbed to the man’s poking and prying while the bread cooled and the fresh, almost scentless aroma of the fruit piled on Huy’s dish made his mouth water. At last Seneb stood away from the couch. “Great Seer, your muscles are full of tension even though you are only just awake. You must take a massage every evening before you sleep, and continue to observe one day of fasting a week. Is the amount of poppy I have allowed you each day enough?” Tetiankh cast the man a sour look and slammed the lid of the chest from which he had lifted Huy’s clean loincloth and kilt.
“I suppose so,” Huy admitted slowly. “My appetite for the drug seems to wax and wane depending on the difficulty of the tasks before me, and I’ve Seen for no one lately.”
“If you need more, your body servant must come to me. You must find the time to exercise, Master. You have a remarkably youthful body, but it needs care. Swim, practise with your bow, take out a chariot—do something. Now please dismiss me.”
Huy thought his request for dismissal ridiculous seeing that he himself was given no choice as to whether or not he wanted to consult the man, but he nodded, and Seneb bowed and went away.
He walked to the bathhouse and had Tetiankh quickly wash and oil him. The King would be beginning his daily audience soon, and Huy wanted to use the time to dictate a letter to his old friend, the priest Methen. Paneb and Ba-en-Ra were waiting for him when he returned. Huy sat before his cosmetics table, and Tetiankh braided his hair and kohled his eyes while he spoke to them. “Go to the Ladies Thuyu and Tiye in the harem and tell them I’ll meet them this evening,” he ordered his Chief Herald. “Ask Tiye whether she wants me to go to her or if she would prefer to come here. Find me wherever I am and give me her answer. Paneb, take a dictation.”
The King's Man Page 18
