With a jolt, Huy remembered that the Feast was always celebrated at Payni’s full moon. The tombs of the deceased were blessed with incense, and families would gather outside the sealed entrances to eat and commune with their dead relatives. Next year I shall join Thothhotep in venerating Anhur, while Heby does his duty for our parents Hapu and Itu. What will next year bring? I wonder. He accepted the wine Prahotep was pouring for him, and drank. As always, it began to settle his stomach. Iupia too seemed to find it soothing. The conversation became agreeably comfortable and spasmodic, the idle comments of three weary but contented people.
Huy finally took his leave and was carried back to the palace in his litter. Mutemwia won’t leave until the Beautiful Feast is over, he mused drowsily. I’ll make the overnight journey to Hut-herib with Heby and Iupia tomorrow and visit my estate afterwards. It will be my last chance to greet Merenra and all my old servants, and perhaps sit in my garden surrounded by memories. If Physician Seneb is waiting to poke at me tonight, I’ll send him away. All I need now are opium and sleep.
The King readily gave Huy permission to go to Hut-herib for a couple of days, and after the poignant ceremonies at his parents’ tomb Heby and Iupia returned to Mennofer. Huy hurried to his estate. The old gate guard, Kar, still sat in his mud-brick shelter by the gate above Huy’s watersteps, and greeted him with a nod and a grunt. Steward Merenra and the members of Huy’s staff who had been either too old or merely unwilling to take up positions in Huy’s palace household stood bunched together in an excited group, smiling and bobbing as Huy, Paneb, Ba-en-Ra, Tetiankh, and Captain Perti with his contingent of soldiers walked the short distance to the house. The walls had been freshly whitewashed, Huy noted with approval. Neat rows of vegetables and flowers filled the garden. Amongst the stand of mature date palms lining the little canal running from the river to the edge of the plots, the stalks of the henna plants Huy’s last gardener, Seshemnefer, had been allowed to cultivate for his own profit looked bare and ugly. Seshemnefer harvested the flowers and sold them to the dyers. Huy was pleased to see that he still did so—or someone did, on Seshemnefer’s behalf. Seshemnefer and his wife Khnit, Huy’s cook, had been sent to oversee the estate on the shore of lake Ta-she that the Rekhet had deeded to Huy in her will. Huy had never seen it.
The steward Merenra dismissed the staff and approached Huy, who embraced him. “It all looks the same,” Huy said as they broke apart. “Even the shadows dappling the garden are familiar. I almost expect Ishat to emerge from the rear door with a scroll in her hand and beckon to me.” He spoke gruffly, on a surge of emotion, yet a part of him noted his surroundings with an unanticipated objectivity. The estate was a good deal smaller than he remembered, and as he entered the house itself with Merenra behind him his sense of mild dislocation grew. Every room was spotless, and standing at the head of the stairs leading to the upper floor, Huy’s previous house servant Ankhesenpepi was waiting for Huy’s praise, an anxious expression on his face. Huy gave it warmly and walked to the far end, where one could step over the low sill and stand on the roof, his glance darting into the bedchambers as he went.
“I ordered the lion skin burnt, Master,” Merenra was saying as Huy turned to retrace his steps. “It became infested with beetles. I know that it was a gift from our King’s grandfather, but I couldn’t save it.”
“It doesn’t matter. Neither Ishat nor I liked it. I see that the servants are using the upper rooms. That’s good. Tell me, Merenra, have you any news of my parents’ house?”
“Your uncle Ker’s foreman lives there with his family. He keeps it in good repair. I assume you still have no communication with your aunt and uncle? Neither is in good health.”
“They’re both aged.” Huy spoke indifferently. His uncle had paid for his education at Ra’s temple school in Iunu until his accident. Both Ker and his wife Heruben, believing that he had been possessed by a demon after Methen carried him home from the House of the Dead, had shunned him completely and transferred their support to Heby. Huy had been unable to forgive them. He had desperately needed the comfort of his relatives, but only his mother had continued to trust and love him.
He was silent as he went back to the tiny reception hall. This place overflows with memories, but it no longer calls to me with nostalgia. I’m no longer the young man full of hopes and visions who lived here so happily with Ishat. I’ve changed, become less innocent, less hopeful, and my visions have been curbed and channelled by order of the King and his mother. Only the mystery of the Book of Thoth remains unsullied by the passage of time, its solution still beyond my reach, its message still waiting for me to discover. Atum will not be satisfied until that enlightenment comes to me. He sighed. “‘Let us call Light first—but known only through darkness,’” he quoted aloud from the Book.
“Master?”
Huy came to himself. “Everything is as I left it,” he said to the steward. “Thank you, Merenra. Is there anything you need? Is the amount of gold I send you regularly for the estate’s upkeep enough?”
He shared a cup of barley beer with Merenra in the garden before he left. They reminisced idly. In a mood approaching desperation, Huy strained to recover something of those days, a pure emotion that would temporarily nudge aside the inner self he had become, but he took his leave knowing that the ghost of his younger self would drift through the pretty rooms and linger in the garden forever, inaccessible to the Scribe of Recruits and adviser to the Horus Throne.
A WELCOME AND SURPRISING FAMILIARITY wrapped him round as he and his attendants entered his palace apartments. Amunmose met him at the door. “A message has come from the Regent, Huy. We leave Mennofer on the second of next month. If your craft isn’t large enough to accommodate your household goods and servants, I’m to let Nebmerut know. You’ll be on the royal barge Kha-em-Ma’at together with Tetiankh. You’ll need a cot, bed and body linens, oils and cosmetics, and of course plenty of poppy.”
“Has anyone told you what our accommodations will be like in the old palace at Weset?” Huy wanted to know.
Amunmose made a face. “No. Apparently the complex is very large, much larger than this, because the Osiris-one Ahmose Glorified, Egypt’s saviour, renovated and restored it after it had fallen into ruin under the rule of the vile Setiu. He removed a wall that had stood between his estate and the old palace and incorporated the two. But that was a long time ago. We’ll see what Architect Kha has been able to accomplish in the time he’s had to make the place habitable.”
“Are there gardens?”
Amunmose shrugged. “I don’t know. I assume so. There’s plenty of desert out behind the protecting walls, though. Or so I’ve heard. It sounds terrible—dry and hot and dead compared to the blessed Delta. Why the Regent wants to drag us all down there, I can’t imagine. Rakhaka will have your evening meal ready for you in about an hour. Paneb has reports for you to read. Oh, and gardener Anab begs not to be left behind when we go.”
Mutemwia’s decision to move south is sound, Huy mused as he walked into his bedchamber. Remove Amunhotep from the influence of Ra’s and the Aten’s priests, show a closer alliegance to Amun, and enable the ministers to function more easily from the centre of Egypt. Besides, by all accounts, Weset seems to be attracting large numbers of people seeking a greater prosperity.
His new body servant, Kenofer, had just lit the lamp beside the couch and the room was filling with the pleasant odour of fragrant ben oil enriched with essence of lilies. He came forward bowing, a smoking taper still held in one hand. “Welcome back, Master. I trust that your visit to Hut-herib was satisfactory. I have taken the liberty of opening your shrine and cleaning the interior. I—”
Tetiankh, who had followed Huy, shushed the young man fiercely. “The sole purpose of a good body servant is to learn every preference of his master and then to not only provide what is wanted but anticipate what his employer may not even be aware that he needs. In silence, Kenofer! In silence! He looks for no thanks! He does his duty unobtrusi
vely and quietly!” He turned to Huy. “I apologize for my assistant, Master. He is obviously slow to learn!”
Kenofer fell to his knees and put his nose to the mat. Huy laughed.
“Get up, you idiot,” he ordered. “Undress me and find me a fresh sleeping robe. I’ll eat on my couch. Tetiankh, find Paneb. I’ll dictate a letter to the Lady Nasha while I’m waiting for my food.”
Tetiankh went out. Kenofer scrambled up and hurried to one of Huy’s tiring chests. Huy saw that he was eager to speak but had wisely decided to keep his mouth closed. I shall miss you, Tetiankh, Huy thought sadly as he took the chair beside the couch. I have said farewell to many friends over the last few years. I fear I shall see many more fade into old age and retirement. Thothmes, Ishat, don’t change! Don’t die! The loss of you will be too hard to bear.
Kenofer had at last found what he was looking for and was laying the soft folds of a sleeping robe across the foot of the couch. He stepped to Huy and stood waiting. Huy rose, all at once glad to be back in these few rather anonymous rooms where the constant comings and goings of the hundreds of inhabitants set up a background hum that never ebbed. Until now, Huy thought as Kenofer reached reverently to undo his jewelled belt. Now this tumultuous heart of my country’s power has been gradually falling silent, and soon only insects, mice, a few servants, and guards will remain to watch the rays of sunlight crawl down the walls and across the dusty floors to dissolve in the pink, ephemeral mists of Ra’s setting. He will vanish into the mouth of the sky goddess Nut unremarked by royal eyes. Even though his devouring may be seen from the streets of Weset, neither the King nor the Regent will notice it. The attention of the Incarnation of Amun and his royal Mother will be fixed elsewhere.
On the second day of Epophi, the last inhabitants of the palace left Mennofer, their skiffs and barges strung out along the surface of the river like a long, multicoloured snake. The bank between the city and the water was thick with quiet citizens watching them go.
“They feel deserted,” Tetiankh remarked. He and Huy were leaning on Kha-em-Ma’at’s gilded rail as the city slid by. “It has been hentis since a King ruled from Weset.”
“They’ll soon recover their pride. Mennofer’s wharves will always be busy with trade and tribute.” Huy turned to look along the wide deck and past the cabin. The royal colours of blue and white fluttered from the tall flagpole in the stern, and beyond it a forest of oars dipped and rose as far back as he could see. The river was very low. The current flowed sluggishly towards the Delta, but its force was still sufficient to battle with the summer wind coming out of the north. Every sail was filling, and every oar was out. Somewhere behind him, his servants and his chattels were following, lost in this vast mass departure. In spite of the steady breeze, the morning was hot. A large canopy had been erected against the wall of the cabin and another attached to the prow. The cushions and mats strewn under them were empty as the travellers lined the rails to see Mennofer sink below the horizon. Mutemwia’s body servant Tekait was vainly struggling to hold a sunshade over her mistress’s head. Mutemwia ignored her. The King had joined Nebenkempt in the prow as he was speaking to the helmsman on his high perch, the huge tiller tucked under his arm as he leaned down to listen. Steering the “Living in Truth” between hidden shoals and other unseen obstructions was doubly difficult at this time of the year.
Shemu used to be the battle months, Huy thought as the southern suburbs glided slowly by. Our history records a southern revolt against Egyptian control at the Appearing of every succeeding King, followed by the assembling of troops, the interminable march into the furnace of Wawat and Kush, the inevitable subduing and punishing of the barbaric tribesmen. So far I haven’t had to consider the eventuality. Are the troglodytes waiting until Amunhotep comes of age and receives the Pshent? If I were a chieftain, I’d have fomented rebellion as soon as his father died, while Amunhotep-Huy was still Scribe of Recruits. In a couple of years Amunhotep will indeed receive the Red Crown and the White Crown. But perhaps when word that Weset has again become the home of the Horus Throne trickles down into Wawat, it will prompt the uprising I’m certain will come. Sometime on this voyage Nebenkempt and I must plan a strengthening of the forts below the Cataracts, particularly Buhen.
“What ponderous thoughts are consuming you, Uncle Huy? Why are you frowning?” The voice was Tiye’s. She had come up beside him and was squinting into the bright sunlight, the silver ankhs hanging from her earlobes tangled in her wind-whipped hair. More silver ankhs encircled her neck and held the linen sheath close to her narrow waist. Her arms were bare, but she wore several ornate gold, red jasper, and lapis rings. Huy thought fleetingly that they entirely dwarfed the embryonic grace of her fingers. Winding itself sinuously between her ankles was a small grey cat with blue eyes and black tufts to its sharp ears. It peered up at Huy disinterestedly, sat down on one of Tiye’s sandal-clad feet, and lazily began to wash itself. A servant had followed Tiye and was trying to extricate the earrings from the girl’s tousled tresses.
Tiye jerked her head. “Leave me alone!” she snapped. “Here. Take Lord Claw away and brush him if you’ve nothing better to do!” Snatching up the cat, she thrust it at the servant, who bowed awkwardly and hurried away. Tiye graced Huy with a brilliant smile. “That’s Heria, my very own body servant. The Queen appointed her. Up until now my mother’s women have seen to my care. I liked that arrangement, but apparently now that I’m a King’s wife, even if it’s in name only so far, I must have a full complement of household staff. I’m to have my own apartments in the new palace. Did you know? Steward, scribe, permanent guards, all of it.” She grasped Huy’s arm and stood on the tips of her toes. “I have no say in who they are,” she went on in a low voice. “Pass the rod of your judgment over them, will you please, Great Seer? I have nothing to hide from Mutemwia, but all the same, I resent being spied on. Oh, damn these stupid earrings! Mother made me wear them today and she wouldn’t let Heria braid my hair. She didn’t say so, but I know she wants Amunhotep to see it flowing free and be dazzled by such beauty as I have. She didn’t bargain on a stiff wind. I can hardly wait until my authority is greater than hers!”
“Is she not on board?” Huy gently began to free the ankhs, Tiye’s perfume of mingled cardamom and myrrh faintly reaching his nostrils.
“No, thank all the gods! She’s back there somewhere with Anen and Nib-Nib and Prince Rascal. Father and Ay are travelling by land with His Majesty’s horses. The Queen didn’t want her here with me anyway.”
“Did she not?” As always after spending a few moments with Tiye, Huy ceased to notice the hooded eyes, wide nose, and downturned mouth that removed the girl from the ranks of the physically beautiful. Her presence alone became increasingly beguiling. One wanted to find and embrace, or at least pin down and define, what one sensed was an elusive quality composed of intelligence, vivacity, and independence rendering her well-nigh irresistible.
“No. Neither did Amunhotep.” Holding the mass of her dark red hair back with one hand, she glanced over the side of the boat to where the forest of oars dribbled small streams of glittering water as they rose, and left swift eddies as they sank again. “We must put into a convenient bay before sunset to give the poor sailors a rest,” she commented. “I have never camped in a tent. Will I enjoy it, do you think? Will you make sure that I’m well guarded? When you were young, you walked from Iunu to Hut-herib, didn’t you? Was it fun?”
Huy met those large, heavily kohled blue eyes without astonishment. “No, Lady Tiye, it was not fun at all,” he replied.
Later, he called Tetiankh, had him braid Tiye’s hair, then joined Mutemwia under the cabin’s canopy, where she was drinking beer and picking at a dish of grapes, fat ripe figs, and black-currants. “There are Mennofer’s pistachios, and walnuts too,” she offered as Huy lowered himself beside her in the welcome shade. “Amunhotep took the dish of almonds with him, though, when he went to sit under the prow.” She laughed. “He was comfortable here beside me
until he saw your body servant tying the tips of Tiye’s braids. Then he moved. Look at them, Huy.”
The King was reclining easily on one elbow, his face raised to Tiye, who had sunk cross-legged beside him. Her back was to the watchers, but Huy saw that she was saying something to Amunhotep that lit up his smile.
“They are becoming quite companionable,” Mutemwia said. “They play board games together and argue about the dispatches, of all things! It distresses Thuyu. She believes that such conversation is not ladylike, but I see in Tiye a Queen who will be more than a wife to my son. He’s used to discussing matters of state with a woman. By the time Amunhotep is crowned, Tiye will have taken my place as an adviser and guide under your supervision.” Deftly she pulled a cluster of grapes free of its stem. “Work has begun on your new house,” she told Huy. “I want you to be happy at Weset. I ordered Kha to put one of his assistant architects on the project. Kha has selected the site himself, by the river and surrounded by your own poppy fields. Thus you will have the privacy and quiet you desire.” Selecting a grape, she slid it between her hennaed lips.
“Your Majesty is kind.” He watched the muscle along her jawline flex as she crunched the grape pips between her strong teeth.
“Not really.” She picked another grape from her open palm. “Weset will be our permanent home, all of us. I can’t have you moving to Sumenu or Aabtu because you’re unhappy.” The piece of fruit vanished into her mouth. Sumenu was approximately twenty miles south of Weset, between the city and Nekheb, Huy reflected silently, and Aabtu, where the head of Osiris was buried, lay a little farther away than that to the north. “In the meantime, your apartments in the old palace are ready for you.” She smiled across at him, her kohled eyes squinting against the bright sunlight in spite of the billowing canopy under which the two of them sat. “You will be living between the King and myself so that you will be easily accessible to both of us. I shall occupy the original Queen’s quarters until Tiye receives the vulture crown. Kha tells me that all the rooms are large and cool.” She dropped the remainder of the grapes back onto the platter. “I want you to be happy, Great Seer,” she repeated. “There is much work ahead of you.”
The King's Man Page 24
