It was some distance to the palace compound, and Huy fell into a doze as the bearers left his guarded arouras, skirted the wide canal that provided both access to his home and water for his precious crops, and set off north along the river path. It had been six years since Huy had walked into the palace quarters allotted to him, and two since he had moved into the large house he had been allowed to commission in the centre of the poppy fields he and Amunnefer owned. He did not begrudge the extra time it took for him to reach the palace each day. The small but important distance of separation between himself and the endless activity in the royal domain had brought him a peace not unlike the contentment he had shared with Ishat on his estate outside Hut-herib. He had been accorded a privilege many of the King’s ministers did not share. He was still Uncle Huy to Amunhotep, and Mutemwia continued to afford him the affection of a beloved brother. Huy was blessed, and he knew it.
Paneb woke him as the litter was being lowered carefully to the ground, and together they walked across the palace’s lofty reception hall behind Nubti, their sandals whispering on the shrouded lapis floor, Perti’s leather belt creaking gently as he brought up the rear. The room was empty, its brooding dimness lit by two lamps on tall gilded stands whose fragile glow was soon lost in the vast reaches. The surroundings were entirely familiar to Huy. Every morning he stood on the dais beside the Horus Throne, hearing reports and petitions with the King, offering advice, instructions, admonitions, but this vacant half dark disturbed him. It seemed to him that as the bustle of the day faded, the past had come sliding in to fill the void, bringing the whispers of long-dead courtiers, their pale faces glimpsed briefly out of the corner of his eye as he paced through the duskiness. Thinking of the sealed stair leading up onto the roof, the memory of the tragedy with which its stale air was imbued, he shook his head and hurried on, the sight of Nubti’s misshapen spine a reassuring link with the present.
Huy’s apartments had been situated between the King’s on one side and Mutemwia’s on the other. Now they were occupied by Chief Herald Maani-nekhtef. The corridor leading to Amunhotep’s double doors was lined with soldiers from the Division of Amun. Several servants in the royal livery of blue and white were loitering by the stool where Nubti usually sat and decided who should be admitted. He had never turned Huy away. At Nubti’s approach the servants bowed and moved aside, for he was an important man in his own right, and at the sight of Huy they bowed again. Nubti rapped on one of the doors. It was immediately opened by Nubti’s under steward, who remained in the passage. So did a watchful Perti. Nubti gestured, and Huy and Paneb walked into the King’s private reception room.
It was empty, but a cheerful flood of light poured across its blue and white tiled floor from a doorway on their right and at once Amunhotep’s voice invited them to approach. To Huy’s surprise the young man standing by the ornate couch was fully clad, his white kilt glinting with gold thread, his sturdy arms heavy with silver and carnelian bracelets. More silver rested across the impressive musculature of his chest. A loose white bag wig covered his skull, surmounted by a small silver uraeus. Both the Lady of Dread and the Lady of Flame had red carnelian eyes that glared balefully at Huy, but Amunhotep smiled and beckoned him closer. The air in the room was redolent with the King’s perfume, rosemary, and a lingering whiff of something Huy could not place. The sheets on the couch were rumpled and the blankets disordered. Obviously Amunhotep’s evening had been spent pleasantly.
“I was washed and repainted for this occasion, Uncle Huy. I wear silver in anticipation of your promise that the floors of my as yet unbuilt funerary temple will be paved with it.” He flicked at one long silver earring and grinned. “There’s more silver than gold in the Treasury now. Did you know? But of course you did—you were responsible for the trading agreements that put it there. Your nephew delights in telling me how every day my wealth grows larger. I’m fond of Ramose. He has an amiable disposition as well as intelligence, unlike that bad-tempered stepbrother of his who keeps order with his whip. I disapprove. Why his wife stays with him I can’t imagine. However, I digress.” He passed a critical eye over Huy. “You look terrible, Uncle, and I can’t make use of a dead man. Get more rest.”
Huy did not respond. He’s at the height of a glorious maturity, he thought with a spurt of love and pride. For twenty years his mother and I have nurtured and disciplined him, and here’s the result: a pharaoh of power and good judgment, not to mention good health.
Amunhotep must have seen something of Huy’s musing in his eyes. His grin widened into a warm smile. “I love you also, Great Seer. Paneb, sit there beside Nebmerut and prepare your papyrus.”
Huy had barely noticed the King’s Chief Scribe and Seal Bearer. Nebmerut was a taciturn man of indeterminate age whose presence was often overlooked, a trait Amunhotep valued in a Chief Scribe.
“Uncle, you may take the stool.” Mystified, obedient, Huy sat. He was entirely unprepared for the King’s next words. “You have strengthened the buffer states of Canaan, Kumidu, and Simurru between us and Mitanni.” It was a statement, not a question.
“A long time ago, Majesty. Governor Khaemwaset presided over the three Assistant Governors responsible for those three areas of Amurru. He has since retired, but the replacement I appointed is extremely efficient. He sends me regular reports.”
Amunhotep began to pace. “Last year, Assurubalit made a nuisance of himself with a flood of letters complaining about the treatment his messengers received.” Again, it was an assertion of fact.
“Yes. He wanted to be recognized with dignity as the King of Assur. I took the liberty of composing a few titles for him when I dictated a reply, and promised gold in exchange for a treaty. A treaty with him was not really necessary—Wesersatet and the army could have squashed him like a bug—but a mutual agreement cost you nothing, Majesty, and perhaps preserved Egyptian lives, not to mention equipment and food. Besides, it allowed Assurubalit to save face.”
“Last year, you were forced to reassure the King of Alashia that trade between his island and us would not be threatened by the marriage alliance I wanted to make with Katna.”
“It took many letters and much tact to satisfy both King Azizi of Katna and our old and very valued partner in Alashia.”
“You did not approve of my marriage to this foreign woman.”
“You know that I did not. You endangered our relationship with Alashia.”
“Yet as always your diplomatic ability resulted in our ultimate benefit.”
“Queen Tiye and I spent many hours arguing it to a successful conclusion. Majesty, what is in your mind? Have I displeased you in some way?”
Amunhotep stopped pacing in front of Huy and folded his arms. “On the contrary. Everywhere I look I see the results of your guidance within and without this blessed country. Even Kush and Wawat can at last be considered one peaceful Egyptian province under Viceroy Merymose, yet another able administrator of your choice. You have made me an empire, dear Uncle Huy. I trust you completely. Paneb, Nebmerut, wet your brushes and write. From now on, the Son of Hapu will be mer kat.”
Momentarily stunned, Huy stared up at the handsome painted features. Mer kat was not a title. It denoted a position of unique authority, bestowed so rarely that Huy could not remember the name of the last mer kat unless it might have been Imhotep himself, healer, architect, and Seer. Like you, peasant, a voice whispered inside him. Like you. And do you not deserve this final accolade? Total supremacy over every facet of Egyptian life. Total power to do what you will. Pharaoh is the divinity, but you express his desire, commissioned to act without ever consulting him. You will rule Egypt.
“But surely this honour should go to Yuya, your Chief Rekhit, Amunhotep,” Huy said huskily. “Or to one of the Queen’s brothers. Ay and Anen—”
“Are estimable men,” Amunhotep finished for him impatiently. “Both have their strengths, and as for Yuya, he has so many titles already that my food gets cold while he’s being announced. You have alw
ays refused the titles I’ve wanted to honour you with, but mer kat is not a title, Uncle—it is a state of being. A mer kat is above everything and everyone alive in the country. Are you keeping pace with this, my little scribes?” He was happy, excited, his kohled eyes shining, arms unfolding to spread wide. “Well, Great Seer? Will you be my mer kat and thus free me to hunt and drink and visit my House of Women every day? You virtually run Egypt anyway. I might as well make it official.”
Huy was recovering from the shock, but his heart still raced. “If I accept, I shall be universally feared,” he pointed out, rising. “Every administrator, every priest, will know that he is at my mercy.”
“Your mercy instead of mine!” Amunhotep laughed. “This is not only a great idea, Uncle, it’s a huge joke as well. Imagine the faces when the news is announced at audience tomorrow!” Then he sobered, grasping Huy’s shoulders. “I have thought long and hard about this. I have prayed. I have talked it over with my Mother. She agrees that you are eminently well qualified to govern. You must say yes. I am your King and I command it.”
But what of the Queen? Huy wondered, looking into the King’s earnest brown eyes. What will Tiye say? Does she already know?
Amunhotep kissed him lightly on one cheek then enveloped him in a crushing embrace. “Well?” he pressed.
Huy stepped out of the King’s arms and bowed. “I will accept this great honour,” he heard himself say. “I am humbled by the supreme trust you’re putting in me, Majesty, and I promise that it will not be abused.” He felt weak as well as exhausted, as though, paradoxically, he had carried a weight that had just been taken from him.
“Good! Then tomorrow morning will be my last audience! But you may come to me at any time, dear Uncle. Now get up, Paneb, and leave with your master. Make a copy of all that has passed here and make sure that it is deposited in Weset’s House of Life together with Nebmerut’s scroll. Huy, send Nubti to me on your way out.”
Huy bowed and backed towards the door. He wanted to put a hand on Paneb’s shoulder for balance, but pride forbade it. Wordlessly, he signalled to Nubti and the door slammed closed behind the chief steward. Perti approached, and at the sight of him Huy repressed an absurd desire to cry. The litter was still waiting for him just beyond the pillars of the palace’s entrance, and he and his little entourage returned silently to his house through the warm serenity of a southern night.
That had been six years ago, and under his hand Egypt had prospered. Its citizens went about their business in safety. The floods of the Inundation did not fail to leave behind a generous deposit of silt that produced thick and healthy crops. The borders, tightly patrolled by officers personally selected by Huy, were secure. Riches continued to stream into the Royal Treasury from every corner of the empire and spill out to eventually benefit the majority of the populace. An exuberance of building projects throughout the country proclaimed the omnipotence of the gods and the King’s eminence as the most powerful sovereign in the world. Egypt, and Amunhotep, was envied. Petty and not so petty princelings swamped the Office of Correspondence with pleas for alliances, trading agreements, and protection from enemies real and imagined in exchange for a surrender of autonomy and an Egyptian Governor complete with a division of Egyptian soldiers. Foreign ambassadors crowded the reception hall every morning with requests and complaints. Even the new Khatti ruler Suppiluliumas had sent an envoy, although the man presented nothing but his credentials. He always stood at the rear of the hall, watching and listening. Huy made sure that his letters home to his King were opened, read, and resealed. The Khatti underling responsible for their safe delivery was generously compensated by Huy for his perfidy, but the messages contained nothing of interest, merely descriptions of the palace, and the courtiers and administrators, and general comments on Egypt’s continued growth and wealth.
“Suppiluliumas snatched power by sacking the capital city of Hattusas and murdering his predecessor,” May pointed out to Huy one morning as they waded through the usual mound of scrolls. “He’s entirely ruthless, Great One, and the extent of his holdings is larger than the Kingdom of Mitanni. He has asked nothing of us. Why not?”
“Because he hopes to take it all anyway one day,” Huy had replied. “But according to our spies, he is still a long way from consolidating his control of the land. I’ll have the Khatti border with Mitanni and Arzawa strengthened, and we’ll continue to watch this barbarian closely.”
Egypt’s governors and administrators soon realized that the decisions of their new mer kat were informed and just. Their mistrust of him slowly died. Indeed, if they had paused to consider the matter, they might have imposed Huy’s features instead of Amunhotep’s beneath the smooth height of the Double Crown. The King was still in evidence, hunting lions or lesser game out on the desert with his retinue, and the men in charge of governmental affairs knew that at any time the King could override Huy’s policies. But he never did. Huy, with the steady support of Queen Mutemwia, laid his hand upon the country, and it flourished.
But Queen Tiye was another concern. According to Nasha, who in spite of her age still managed to not only run Huy’s household amicably with Amunmose and Paroi but also visit the House of Women for hours of gossip and wine drinking, the Chief Wife had hotly protested Huy’s elevation to mer kat. Her father Yuya was an aristocrat and thus far more worthy of such a distinction. Her brothers Ay and Anen were princes. The Seer, regardless of his qualifications, was a commoner and had no right to direct the fate of the whole country. Her husband had listened to her unmoved. He had not reminded her of Huy’s long and excellent record of advice, or of her own affection for him, or of his rare and extraordinary relationship with Atum, the mighty Neb-er-djer, Lord to the Limit. When she had run out of words and had fallen into a flushed and angry silence, Amunhotep had said simply, “I have spoken,” and had ignored her until at last she had flounced out of the room.
Now, on this sixteenth day of Mesore, in the quiet, hot dimness of her great reception room, Huy waited for her. He did not expect her to be prompt. The good manners in which both her mother and Mutemwia had instructed her no longer applied to him. She was not foolish enough to be outright rude to him, even in private, but she treated him with a coolness that hurt and exasperated him. The reason had little to do with his absolute authority, he knew. Her anger over that had been short-lived, particularly as neither her father nor her brothers had seemed offended by Huy’s elevation. No, it was one of his Seeings that had begun the rift between them, and Huy was sorry.
At last the double doors were flung open. Guards held the doors wide while others moved swiftly to scan the shadows. Huy rose and Userhet strode forward. Servants carrying tapers began to disperse, and at once lights burst forth from the many tall oil lamps scattered about. Heria, Tiye’s body servant, disappeared in the direction of the square aperture leading, Huy knew, to the Queen’s bedchamber, carrying an ornate cosmetic box and a spare pair of sandals. By the time Tiye had entered the room and seated herself opposite Huy’s chair, the woman had returned with a footstool. Tiye’s scribe Anhirkawi bowed to Huy and then went to the floor beside Tiye, opening his palette. More servants approached carrying a silver tray, a ewer, two silver cups, and a silver dish piled with little cakes.
In spite of his exalted rank, Huy had to wait for the Queen to speak. Heria knelt, lifted the royal legs, and lowered them onto the footstool. A cat appeared from somewhere, stretching and yawning, and sprang lightly onto Tiye’s lap. Automatically her ring-encrusted hands began to stroke its sleek grey spine, but Huy kept his attention fixed on her painted face. The servants, but for Anhirkawi, drew away to stand against the walls. Silence fell. Finally Tiye sighed. “Mer kat.”
“Empress.”
“The Horus-in-the-Nest is now beginning his obligatory term as a priest of Ptah in Mennofer under the guidance of your nephew.”
“Yes.”
“They tell me that the restoring and beautifying work on Ptah’s temple overseen by Amunhotep-Huy i
s finished, and is completely satisfactory.”
“Yes.”
“Under your guidance a new mausoleum for the sacred Apis bulls has begun construction, the new Palace of the Dazzling Aten continues to rise on the west bank, and His Majesty’s funerary temple will have floors of solid silver rather than the more plentiful gold. You are a busy man. May tells me that you have also put the Assyrians in their place.”
“Majesty, your attention is constantly fixed on governmental offices,” Huy replied with an air of patience he was far from feeling. “You know all this and more. In particular your familiarity with the affairs of foreigners is prodigious. Even as a girl you loved the negotiations into which May entered. Almost every day you, Queen Mutemwia, and I gathered to work with May in the Office of Foreign Correspondence. Is there something pressing that you need to discuss with me?”
“Need.” The creases beginning to etch permanently into her face from nose to mouth deepened. “Need is a dangerous word, mer kat. Or rather, the prospect of its alleviation can be seductively dangerous.” She snapped her fingers and held up the cat. Huy could hear it purring. At once Heria materialized, took it gently, and disappeared. Tiye laid hennaed palms flat on the drape of the gold-shot linen across her thighs. “Because of you the King need not concern himself anymore with the administration of this country. He hunts, he frequents the House of Women far too often, and he has begun to drink too much.”
“I watch him as carefully as you, Empress. I have loved and served him since he was a little boy coming to Hut-herib to stay on my estate. I agree that he is becoming somewhat profligate in his tastes, but he still requires my reports every week and is far from ignorant regarding the state of his realm.” He hesitated, then plunged on. “Placing the cloak of responsibility around my shoulders six years ago was a relief to him. You wished to assume ultimate power instead of me, but you are certainly aware that the country would never accept a female mer kat. Empress, yes. Supreme ruler under the King, no. Amunhotep looks about him, and all is well. Egypt has never been richer or more secure. He has royal daughters and a handsome Hawk-in-the-Nest …” Huy realized his mistake at once and mutely cursed himself, but he was beyond exhaustion and he ached with the desire for his evening dose of poppy. Need, he thought grimly. Even I, Egypt’s supreme Overseer, have needs, dear Tiye.
The King's Man Page 28
