The white pillars, the outer walls, the welcome dimness of the entrance hall, were covered in a riot of colourful scenes. Heavy purple grapevines curved sinuously upward. Red-feathered birds fluttered in the green forest of many trees whose trunks descended to meet the cool yellow tiles of the floor. Fruits, breads, and vegetables cascaded from offering tables set within stylized temples above whose pylons the names of the gods were painted in black and enclosed in cartouches. Servant girls in short, transparent linen lifted jugs from which dark wine poured into golden goblets held out by jewelled and kohled diners. Animals seemed to wander from panel to green panel, and fish swam in a bilious blue river. The smell of fresh pigments hovered in the air, and Huy wondered how recently Weset’s artists had finished restoring these glorious depictions of life before hurrying back to their modest homes. Glancing up, he saw that a huge rayed sun filled the centre of the high ceiling.
At the far end of the hall, a square doorway beckoned. Beyond it Mutemwia took a few steps and halted, and Huy moved to stand beside her. To their left a wide dais ran from wall to wall. Doors had been set to right and left behind it, almost invisible in the sweep of solid gold comprising not only the one wall but the other three also. Into each one the likeness of a victorious King Ahmose had been hammered, his sandalled stride reaching the floor, the raised axe in his hand only inches from the ceiling. Around the lintels of the doors into and out of the audience chamber his name and many titles had been incised.
“Amunhotep wanted them left alone.” Mutemwia gestured at them briefly. “He wants every ambassador and visiting dignitary to be reminded of what happens to foreigners who dream of conquering and enslaving us.”
“This place will awe everyone, particularly when the lamps are put in place and lit,” Huy replied as Nebmerut and his perspiring servants went past carrying the shrouded Horus Throne. “The sprinklings of pyrite throughout the dark blue lapis of the floor will glitter constantly. This royal house is more spacious and opulent than the palace at Mennofer. The ministers should be overjoyed to be working here.”
The throne had been lowered reverently onto the centre of the dais and Nebmerut, having set a guard around it, had disappeared through one of the small doors at its rear still carrying the ornate chest holding the Pshent, Crook, and Flail.
“According to Kha, the ones who arrived earlier are already pleased with their offices. He’s waiting for you, Huy. My steward Ameni will escort me to my quarters.” Acknowledging Huy’s bow, she left the room trailed by Tekait and her entourage. It took a long time for them to pass through one of the doorways at the far end.
With a lightened heart Huy saw the King’s Chief Architect striding towards him. Kha was smiling broadly, his blue eyes merry. The hall was gradually filling up with people. Officials, army officers, servants, a few priests, milled about with a sense of aimlessness that Huy knew was temporary. Tomorrow would see a return to the smooth organization of an administration known as the most powerful and efficient in the world.
“Great Seer Huy, I greet you with all respect and affection!” Kha exclaimed as he came up to Huy. “Her Majesty has ordered me to acquaint you with this magnificent place and to make any changes to its design you may desire for your comfort. My sons asked me to convey their greetings to you also. I hardly see them anymore. They are as busy as I. Hori has gone south to Nekheb to see to the completion of Nekhbet’s temple, and Suti spends all his time carrying out the additions to Ipet-isut His Majesty requested.” He gestured widely. “The Throne Room of Senwosret Is Observing the Primeval Hill. When His Majesty returns from Ipet-isut, I must show him his new home, but for now, come with me!”
As they went, Huy began to realize what a monumental task of restoration his friend had accomplished. Having studied architecture himself, he knew how much time each part of the project had required. “It hasn’t been necessary to enlarge any of the rooms,” Kha told him. “As you can see, the ceilings are lofty and the clerestory windows carefully placed to direct only the morning sunlight into these airy spaces. Mainly bricklayers and artists laboured here.” He laid a hand on Huy’s arm and brought him to a halt. “I am giving you so many details because Her Majesty Queen Mutemwia warned me that if you see anything amiss, anything at all, you have her authority to change it through me. Now we come to the royal apartments and your quarters between them.”
The two men wove their way between the laden servants crowding the wide passage and coming and going through two open doors to their right and one imposing admittance directly ahead. Armed guards had already taken up their station there, and as Huy followed Kha through one of the other doors, both Perti and Amunmose hurried to greet them with bows. Huy found himself in a reception hall at least twice as large as the one he had left behind in Mennofer. The vibrant scenes of domestic life on its walls glinted where details had been etched in gold. The floor, or what Huy could see of it beneath the clutter of boxes, chests, and pieces of furniture, was made up of yellow tiles that took on a tinge of blue as they disappeared towards the centre. Facing Huy were open double doors through which he could see a small pond, some grass, and a couple of sycamore trees, all suffused with the strong, blinding light of the south.
“Master, I’ve made an inspection of these rooms and I was about to set a guard before seeing the rest of my men settled into their own new quarters,” Perti said. “It will be easier to keep a watch on you here than in Mennofer. The garden is all your own and is walled, with only a small gate leading into His Majesty’s precinct.” He smiled. “I shall be co-operating with the senior officers of the Division of Amun, and Commander-in-Chief Wesersatet of course. May I proceed?”
“And a good thing too,” Amunmose grumbled as Perti and his soldiers left. “Perti has been poking his nose into every cranny and the servants have been tripping over his men. Tetiankh and Kenofer have set up your couch and are unpacking your personal belongings. Rakhaka has been allowed a portion of the kitchens all to himself. Naturally, he’s found plenty to grumble about.” All at once the steward’s dazzling grin lit up his face. “I sense that there has been much happiness in this palace, Huy. I believe that you also will be happy here.” Bowing again, he turned to where Paroi was urgently gesturing. Paneb and Ba-en-Ra were engaged in a close conversation, sitting out of the way with their backs against the far wall. Huy slipped out into the passage with Kha.
“Come up onto the roof,” Kha said. “From there you can see the whole compound, and much of the city.”
It took them a long time to walk through the palace and out to the rear, where steps clung to the wall. By the time they had climbed over the lip of the roof, Huy’s eyes had adjusted to the unrelenting glare of a sun at its zenith, and he found himself facing an expanse dotted with wind catchers of various sizes that funnelled the prevailing north wind of summer into the rooms below. Some of them sat beside modest doorways with stairs obviously leading down into the second storey. But one of the wind catchers, clearly recently repaired, rose next to a low opening filled with bricks and rubble from lintel to sill. Huy, fully aware of Kha’s abilities, asked him why this doorway remained as it was.
“It’s said that the steps are haunted,” Kha told him. “At least, I assume that there are steps inside, connecting this doorway with another blocked aperture below. His Majesty forbade me to touch any of it. The story is that a Prince of Weset often used that stair to come up here and pray or think, and sitting in the shade of that wind catcher he was attacked and grievously wounded. Later he died in battle. His Majesty insists that the Prince was the Osiris-one Seqenenra, he who began our revolt against the vile Setiu, and at that time the palace was a dangerous ruin. Whatever the truth is, we know that the Tao family lived there.” He pointed to where a long, low building sprawled close by. “King Ahmose, Seqenenra’s son, had the wall between the two removed, and it was he who accomplished the first major restoration here. But he would not unblock the stair up which his father’s betrayer may have crept, and neither must we
.” He laughed. “I was a very lazy student of history and was beaten many times because of it. All I cared about was designing in brick, wood, and stone. I have expanded the Taos’ old estate. It will house the women, except for Queen Mutemwia, of course, and later His Majesty’s Consort. Look to the south. The ministers are very pleased with their new offices …”
He went on describing the scene directly below, but Huy, after passing a swift gaze over the vast royal acres with their protecting wall surrounding him, looked beyond them. The river was a thin brown ribbon waiting for the Inundation, still over a month away. On the west bank the scattered mortuary temples and tombs of the dead could hardly be distinguished through a haze of beige dust hanging suspended over a waste of barren, churned sand. Beyond them a serried range of cliffs shivered in the heat. Here on the east bank, outside the green and watered confines of the palace grounds, lay the city of Weset, spreading out of Huy’s sight to north and south, a bewildering accumulation of narrow dirt streets, jumbled houses, shrines, markets, all wrapped in the same thin pall of summer motes, yet murmurous with brisk life. It seemed to Huy, as the city’s muted clamour reached him, that the pulse of Weset’s heart beat more rapidly than Mennofer’s dignified pace. Here the past exists as a foundation to be built on, he thought suddenly, not sunk into with an excess of awe.
“I have already begun drafting the plans for the King’s new palace over on the west bank,” Kha was saying, and Huy’s attention returned to him with a jolt. “It will be a long time before the laying of the cord, and perhaps by then His Majesty will have changed his mind. Senwosret Is Observing the Primeval Hill is a beautiful and harmonious place.”
Once back at the entrance to Huy’s apartment, Kha invited him to dine and then took his leave, and Huy answered the salute of the familiar soldiers to either side of his door and went in. Quiet enveloped him. His tables and chairs sat peacefully on the spotless floor, where the central motif, a cluster of blue water lilies, was now revealed. The far door leading to the garden was closed. The air was cool and smelled faintly of lotus oil. Walking towards one of the doors on his far right, he glanced inside. His couch had already been dressed in clean white linen. One of his lamps, together with a jug of water and a cup, sat on the small table beside it. His tiring chests were lined up neatly against one wall, and against the other his shrine to Khenti-kheti, totem of the Delta town of Hut-herib near where he had been raised, stood open, a long-handled censer lying beside it.
As he hesitated on the threshold, there was the brisk slap of sandals on tiles behind him and he turned to see both Tetiankh and Kenofer approaching, accompanied by Seneb. Both body servants looked tired, but the physician’s newly shaved skull gleamed and the black kohl around his eyes had obviously been freshly applied. “I have your midday dose of opium, Great Seer,” he said, “and by the Queen’s order I am to give you a complete examination. I have not done so since you left Mennofer.”
Huy nodded curtly, reached for the drug, and drank quickly, welcoming its familiar bitterness.
“Amunmose has gone to the kitchens to taste your noon meal, Master,” Tetiankh told him. “It will be here directly. You might wish to eat it while it’s hot.” He cast a disapproving glare at Seneb. “Scribe Paneb waits for your attention with letters.”
For answer, Huy stepped towards the couch. “Hurry up and get this over with, physician. The food can wait. I’m not hungry. Kenofer, tell Paneb to bring the correspondence as soon as Seneb leaves. No, not you, my dear Tetiankh,” he added as the man turned away. “Your service was at an end when I left Mennofer. You’ve trained Kenofer well, and now it’s time to take the gold I’ve given to you and go home to your family. We’ve already said our goodbyes.” His smile took the sting out of his words.
Tetiankh hesitated, then bowed. Kenofer had already disappeared. “Caring for you has been the habit, and the pleasure, of my life, Master, and I am reluctant to relinquish my duties. But you are right. I trust that I leave you in capable hands. Farewell.”
Huy returned his bow with an inward pang of regret. Seneb had begun to surreptitiously tap one hennaed foot. Huy swung back to his couch and began to remove his sweat-stained kilt.
Later, bathed and clad in clean linen, he sat in his imposing new reception room with Paneb before him and his Chief Herald Ba-en-Ra a polite distance away, waiting for instructions. Paneb’s palette lay on the ivory-inlaid table beside him together with a box full of unsealed scrolls. “I have taken the liberty of saving you time by reading these, Master. Naturally, their contents remain with me in the strictest confidence. Shall I begin?”
Nasha had written that she had managed to secure a small suite of rooms for herself and her servants in a house not far from the palace. “Anybody who is anybody is rushing to move to Weset, and lodgings are scarce,” she said. “Who knows—I might even find myself an agreeable husband in this arid, rather horrible city. Please use your authority, O mighty and powerful Seer, and get me an apartment inside the royal compound. I am impatient to see you.”
“Make a note of her request,” Huy said. “Next?”
Thothhotep’s letter was warm and full of news. “I see a great deal of Architect Hori,” she told Huy. “Since Anhur’s death I have been at a loss for something to do, and Hori often employs me as an assistant scribe. The work is easy and the progress being made on the erection of a new temple for Nekhbet very interesting. Are you well settled into the palace yet?” She doesn’t urge me to visit her, Huy thought as Paneb set her scroll aside and picked up another one. That’s good. She is becoming less lonely.
“Prince Amunnefer wishes to show you your poppy fields as soon as possible,” Paneb said. “The present crop was sown during the last month of Akhet and this year’s opium has just been extracted. A yield of superior quality, he says. He invites you to a welcome party in his house tomorrow.”
“Send Herald Ba-en-Ra. Tell the Prince that I’m most eager to greet him once again and to see the fields for myself at last. If Their Majesties have no need of me, I shall meet him tomorrow morning. Use your own words, Paneb. No dictation is necessary.” Amunnefer, Huy mused. A good, kind man once married to a vain and selfish woman. Anuket. I can speak your name to myself without a single tremor, and even the boyhood memories of my passion for you have no sting anymore. How was your heart weighed in the Judgment Hall? I wonder. Did Ma’at’s scales balance after all? “Anything else, Paneb?”
“Your brother has sent you a sack of pistachio nuts harvested from Ra’s temple gardens, with a brief letter wishing you well.”
“Good. Now prepare your palette. As Scribe of Recruits, I’m summoning all army and navy commanders to Weset to discuss the changes in troop strength and deployment this move south has demanded. The policing of our northern borders with the Great Green and east with the tribes of Rethennu and beyond must increase. Don’t include Prince Yuya, though. As Master of the King’s Horses, he holds no rank outside the royal household.” Nevertheless, I must deliberately do my best to cultivate the man’s acquaintance, Huy’s thoughts ran on as Paneb gathered up the scrolls and bowed himself away. His foreign blood notwithstanding, he is an Egyptian aristocrat and father of the future Queen, and Tiye is close to her brother Ay. I need their confidence.
That night, in spite of his regular dose of poppy, Huy could not sleep. It was his first night in a strange place. The shadows on the walls of his bedchamber moved in unfamiliar ways as the flame within his night light guttered. He was aware of the hundreds of rooms and mazes of passages cocooning him in walls through which no sound seemed to penetrate. He was acutely conscious of his position between the young King on one side of his apartment and Mutemwia on the other. He did not know where Tiye was—probably asleep in the Tao’s refurbished estate, safely installed with her mother and her new servants. Huy lay on his back gazing up at his starry blue and white ceiling. He poured himself water from the jug Kenofer had set ready for him, and considered waking the young man for a game of sennet, but immediatel
y rejected the idea. He was too restless for board games. In the end he got up, put on the kilt he had worn all afternoon, and let himself barefooted out into his garden.
Softly greeting the guard on the door, he stepped onto the dry grass and walked away from the deep shadow of the palace wall. The moon was three-quarters full, casting a dim, pallid light that barely reflected in Huy’s little pool, and the darkness under the trees was thick. Nevertheless, the sky was a dense mat of stars, clearer and sharper than anything similar seen in the Delta, where the humid air created a mist that veiled the heavens. The air here was dry and almost scentless, with a barely perceptible whiff of the desert that stretched immeasurably far on either side of the river beyond the thin and somehow precarious spread of both city and cultivated fields. It embraces the tombs on the west bank, Huy thought. It is as arid and lifeless as the desiccated bodies lying in their coffins. I can sense its voice beneath the muted rumble of the city, timbreless, eternally self-sufficient, unchanging, as cities rise and wane and men are born, flourish, and are eventually carried into the House of the Dead.
The King's Man Page 26
