Seer of Egypt

by Pauline Gedge

  “Be pleased to wait here, Master,” the herald said, and bowing his way past Huy, he went out. Huy doubtfully inspected his surroundings. He was in a very short hallway. Several closed doors led off from it on either side, and ahead there was an imposing double door. Into each panel a likeness of Horus had been carved, his claws resting on the stylized stool that was the hieroglyph for wealth, his hawk’s head crowned with a sun-disc. Huy realized that he was about to enter the domain of Prince Amunhotep, the Hawk-inthe-Nest. At least he thought so, and hoped he was not going to find himself face to face with Prince Thothmes, that glib storyteller, instead.

  He had barely drawn two breaths when one side of the double doors opened and a man appeared, bowed to him, and beckoned him forward. Huy could smell his perfume, a distinctive combination of myrrh and lotus oil, blowing towards him on the gentle draft coming through from the space behind and stirring the folds of the ankle-length white and blue sheath. “I am Pa-shed, Chief Steward to His Highness Prince Amunhotep,” he said as Huy came up to him. “The Prince greatly desires to speak with you on a matter of urgency. He humbly asks that you keep your audience with him a secret.”

  So he was indeed to meet Prince Amunhotep, and since the Prince had a matter of urgency on his mind, it was likely that he did not require a Seeing. Huy, tired and on edge, allowed himself a moment of cautious relief. “I shall of course respect His Highness’s request,” he answered.

  Pa-shed inclined his shaved head, his kohled eyes meeting Huy’s own, seeking an honest confirmation, Huy thought, with a good steward’s shrewd assessment of both words and demeanour. He bowed again, an invitation to pass by him. Huy did so.

  He found himself in a large, airy room with a window that might have looked out over the garden if the view had not been almost completely obscured by an exuberant tangle of leafy growth that gave everything in the space a restful green hue and allowed the random flow of cool air. The window faced north, as far as Huy could surmise. The constant summer wind from the Delta and the Great Green would be very pleasant here. A red and yellow reed mat covered most of the floor, and on it a variety of chairs and small tables were scattered about, together with cushions and several stands holding creamy alabaster lamps of intricate design. The walls, painted with representations of vine-hung pillars, were pierced by two closed doors. One must lead to the Prince’s bedchamber and one to his office, Huy quickly guessed in the moment when he took in his surroundings. This is a reception room.

  Of course, Huy immediately recognized the man turning from the window. He had shed his linen headdress and his jewellery and was wearing a pair of plain reed sandals and a pale blue knee-length kilt. Huy made his obeisance deeply from the waist, arms outstretched, head lowered, wondering why the Prince had chosen to wear the colour of mourning, blue unrelieved by any other shade. He straightened. Behind him, two servants had entered soundlessly and were placing two flagons and several dishes on one of the tables. Pa-shed had retired to the wall, where he stood with arms folded, waiting for an instruction. There was no sign of the Prince’s scribe. So this is indeed going to be a matter of the utmost confidentiality, Huy thought, so private that not even a scribe may hear it. More intrigued now than apprehensive, he looked into the face that resembled the King’s so closely. Those eyes hold a greater intelligence, though, Huy decided, and the mouth is less sensual.

  The Prince did not smile at Huy’s inspection. “Pa-shed, close the door and stand outside it in the passage,” he said. He had a light voice, the tones measured, the accent refined. “I wish to see no one, unless Mutemwia seeks me. The Seer and I can serve ourselves. Has the food and drink been tasted?” Pa-shed nodded. Once the door had closed quietly, Amunhotep indicated the laden table. “You have come from a difficult audience,” he said quietly. “You must eat and drink. I believe that we have the choice of two wines, white grape and a very sustaining date brew into which juniper berries for bodily strength have been crushed. I’m told that you are partial to bak pods. Eat as many as you like, and the rest will be sent to your barge. Shat cakes, figs in honey, fresh peaches, grapes, currants, a few small brown pears.”

  He was looking over the contents of the silver platters with an interest Huy sensed was feigned. Surprised, he realized that the Prince was hesitant to give voice to the reason why he, Huy, was there.

  “How wonderful the harvest months are!” Amunhotep went on. “Please help yourself, Huy, and pour a cup of grape wine for me.” He retired to one of the chairs, sat, crossed his legs, and watched as Huy poured grape wine for him and date wine for himself, and set a couple of cakes on a smaller plate. Bowing, he handed the Prince his wine and gulped thirstily at his own. He was waved to a chair. Amunhotep’s eyes remained steadily on him as he refilled his cup. Then he balanced it on one knee, clasping it in both hands, and waited.

  The tangled leaves outside the window stirred fitfully, their shadow mimicking the movement against the opposite wall. Voices wafted in on the breeze, the words indistinguishable. Huy ate a shat cake, drank more wine, and waited. At last the Prince sighed and set his cup on the table beside him. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands. “You were a student at Iunu, weren’t you?” he said unexpectedly.

  Huy’s eyebrows shot up. “Yes, Highness, I was there under High Priest Ramose, who has since retired to his estate on the river, and Overseer Harmose, who has also retired.”

  “You were happy there, weren’t you.” It was a statement, not a question. “Our present Governor of the Heq-at sepat, Thothmes, became your lifelong friend. I know him well. He is honest, generous, an exemplary husband to your other great friend, Ishat. A man to be trusted although he prays to the Osiris-one Thothmes the Third as his totem instead of to Ra, whose temple sits at Iunu.”

  A brief smile lit the solemn, rather sad, face. Huy wondered just where all this was leading. Amunhotep was repeating almost everything the King had said a short while ago.

  “When I learned that my father had summoned you, and why, I summoned Governor Thothmes. I wanted to know as much about you as I could. I would have talked to the nobles who have consulted you over the years, but I did not want to draw attention to myself. Thothmes told me that you are courageous and truthful. Tell me, Seer Huy, where was your courage today?”

  Startled, Huy grabbed at his cup before it could tumble to the floor. He wanted to stall, to pretend he did not know what the Prince meant, but those dark eyes held his with a sober command that precluded a lie.

  “It failed me, as Your Highness knows,” he croaked. He cleared his throat of what felt like a stone of guilt. “I sensed strongly that your brother’s dream was false. I saw in my mind the consequences to myself, my family, if I told the truth.”

  “Yet if you had told the truth, Egypt would have begun to doubt my brother’s word. Your own word carries more weight than you know. Did you not wonder why you were not asked to See for Prince Thothmes?”

  “He wanted a dream interpreted. A Seeing would not have provided that.”

  “No, but it would have revealed his duplicity and perhaps shown you whether or not the plan he has hatched with the King my father will come to fruition. You disappoint me, Seer. You are not as brave as your loyal friend assured me.”

  “What can I say?” Huy blurted miserably. “Is there any way in which I can put this right?”

  “No, of course not. The damage has been done.”

  “Highness, I’m sorry, but your father and brother have fabricated a story that appears to me to have no real purpose, unless …” He could not complete his sentence by forcing out the next terrible words.

  The Prince’s eyebrows rose, but as Huy remained silent, Amunhotep’s gaze became speculative. Sitting back again, he crossed his long legs, drank a little wine, licked his hennaed lips, pursed them, trying to decide, Huy thought, what to say to him. All at once he didn’t want to know what was about to come from that orange mouth. He wanted to flee to his barge, hurry home to the peace and predictability of life on his sm
all estate, and go on healing and scrying for the humble citizens of Hut-herib.

  “You live far from the intrigues of court life,” the Prince began at last, and Huy’s heart sank. He was going to hear things of which he did not want to be aware, things that would destroy whatever innocence he, at thirty-eight years old, had been able to retain from his strange childhood. Amunhotep would give voice to the thought he had not dared to express. “Like most Egyptians, you reverence the divinity of your King and believe that he rules the country effortlessly through intelligent and honest ministers, lives in the truth of Ma’at, and is possessed of a total omniscience,” Amunhotep continued. “Is that not why every statue of a pharaoh is carved with very large ears? Does not Pharaoh hear of all that passes in his land? Like every ruler, my father relies on the reports of his governors, his two viziers, his overseers of the armed forces, taxation, building projects, everything concerning an Egypt he loves. And make no mistake, Huy, he loves this country. But the reports from the High Priests of Amun he does not like.” Suddenly his face contorted, an expression of deep grief, before it was hidden by his wine cup. When he set the vessel back on the table, his features had become smooth again. “Let me try to put this as simply as possible. My father is a healthy and very vigorous man. He is interested more in the energies of a god than the essence. He does not like being considered the Incarnation of Amun here on earth. The High Priest of Amun annoys him. He left Weset, Amun’s city and the seat of power in Upper Egypt, almost as soon as he had inherited the throne, and returned here, to Mennofer. His father Osiris Thothmes Glorified was content to live and rule from the great palace at Weset, but my father, as indeed my brother and myself, was raised in the north, where Ra of Iunu reigns, and the shrines of many of his hypostases litter the towns and cities of the Delta and Lower Egypt. Here it is known that Ra is far older than Amun, a universal god from the beginning, while Amun remained a local totem until my blessed ancestors raised him to prominence in return for his divine aid against the Setiu occupiers of Egypt hentis ago. Mennofer and its palace and its god are older than Weset, its palace, or Amun. The priests of Amun take pride in the fact that the kings are the successive incarnations of their god. They receive greater tribute, Amun’s temple and shrines are exempt from taxes, the High Priest of Amun takes precedence over every other High Priest during religious festivals. My father and my brother no longer worship Amun. They go to the shrine of the Aten here in Mennofer.” He held out his cup and Huy, feeling rather dazed, refilled it. Amunhotep drank rapidly.

  “But, Highness, the Aten is between Amun and the earth. The rays of Amun are the Aten, and when they reach the earth they become lions, holy sphinxes carved throughout Egypt.”

  Amunhotep shook his head. “That makes no sense to my father. The Aten is light, rays of light, and light comes from Ra, not Amun. The King and the Prince my brother have repudiated Amun altogether. They are embarking on a great sacrilege, Huy. Do you understand? Oh, yes, I think you do. My spies saw my brother’s servants go out in the night and begin to dig around the head of Ra-Harmachis to make sure the god did indeed have a buried body before Thothmes announced his dream. Ra-Harmachis is a manifestation of the rays of the Aten emanating from Amun and becoming a lion, yet my brother would have Ra as the god of his so-called dream. He could not have done so without the collusion of the High Priest of Ra and his underlings, who must smell a new power coming their way. I am the Crown Prince!” His voice rose. “I am the Hawk-in-the-Nest, eldest son of a King! I believe that my destiny is to be the Incarnation of Amun on earth, validated in my claim by the priests of Amun. I have refused to agree to the intrusion of the Aten to change this, even as the rays of Amun falling to the ground! Sphinxes are sacred to Amun! They do not belong to Ra! Amun is the essence, the Aten his energies! Ma’at is about to be perverted!”

  He left the chair and began to pace agitatedly about the room, and, watching him, Huy realized that the light around him had become tinged with a soft pink glow. Evening was coming.

  “Amun and Pharaoh must remain the two most powerful forces in the kingdom,” the Prince said more calmly. His arms were folded tightly against his naked chest, his head down, and Huy felt a wave of pity for him, this youth of—what? Nineteen or twenty? He looked vulnerable, and isolated.

  “The King is about to commit a heresy,” Huy ventured, remembering yet again the warning Atum had given to Pharaoh, who had perhaps even then been turning over in his mind his dissatisfaction with the south and everything in it, his loyalties moving ever closer to the deities of the north. Ramose, High Priest of Ra and my mentor while I was at school, would never agree to this. But Ramose no longer ruled Ra’s domain. Huy did not know whom the King had appointed in his stead. The Ished Tree, he thought. The Book. Neither of them under Ramose’s care anymore.

  “The second part of the dream,” he said. “Highness, surely they won’t dare … I… ”

  Amunhotep stood still. “You know why I prayed that you would oppose my brother or at least cast some doubt upon his lie,” he said without looking at Huy. “You suspected it. I have reason to believe that my father will have me murdered so that Thothmes can take the throne after him and continue to worship the Aten even above the essence of either Ra or Amun. I tried to have you brought to me before you faced my father,” Amunhotep went on wryly, “but Father made sure that you were taken directly from your barge to the Throne Room. Will you See for me, Huy? My future is dark before me. I don’t know what to do. Look.” He pointed at a tiny vial on another table. “Pa-shed has prepared poppy for you. Please, Great Seer. Let Atum have pity on me and show me the way that I must go!” He flung himself down in the chair facing Huy and leaned forward tensely, offering one ring-clad hand with a disarming humility. “I have ordered that my food be tasted,” he continued hoarsely. “I have doubled the guard on my apartment and take soldiers with me wherever I go. Yet I cannot sleep, and my days are spent looking over my shoulder, tensing for the arrow that might come, although I know that Father will not be so foolish as to have me murdered in such an obvious way.” The extended fingers curled into a clench. “There are substances that kill with a drop on the skin. A pillow in the hands of an accomplished assassin is no longer an instrument of ease. Worst of all, I can confide in no one, not even the Queen my mother, whom I love. She would go immediately to the King and bluster on my behalf, or perhaps tell me that it’s all nonsense and I should spend more time in hunting and less in thinking.” He smiled ruefully. “I have tested my imagination. My father and my brother move apart and stop talking when I approach. My brother watches me out of the shadows. Father barely speaks to me at all.”

  “Did the High Priest of Ra invent your brother’s dream?”

  “No. I think it was concocted by my father and eagerly sanctioned by the priests of all the sun temples and shrines who wish to see Amun return to the status of a local totem and his priests deprived of their riches and pre-eminence. But Ma’at has decreed that the King should be the Incarnation of Amun, not Ra. My father and Thothmes will upset the balance of Ma’at, and I am afraid for Egypt as well as for myself.”

  Huy forced down the voices of self-censure within him and gently took the Prince’s hand, laying it on his own palm and placing his other hand over it. “Highness, I may See terrible things, perhaps even your death,” he said in a last attempt to run from the consequence of a responsibility he had refused to shoulder. “Do you truly want this?” The Prince nodded. The fingers lying limply against Huy’s were cold. “Then please close your eyes.” Huy closed his own. Will Atum even acknowledge me now? I have failed in my loyalty to him and to Egypt. Will he take the gift of Seeing away from me?

  “A vain hope, Seer, possessor of the secrets of the Book of Thoth.” The voice, so close to Huy’s ear that he fancied he could feel warm breath on his temple, did not belong to Anubis. Turning with an exclamation of shock, he found himself staring into a familiar face of matchless, serene beauty. Kohled dark eyes regarded him steadil
y. The perfect red-hennaed mouth under an aquiline nose was parted slightly, solemnly. Gleaming black hair fell to either side of the long neck and was held to the high forehead by a thin golden band. At its rear, a white feather stirred in a breeze Huy could not feel, but he knew whence that little wind came. It soughed and gusted through the grim shadows of the Judgment Hall, filling the vastness with a sense of rootless desolation. Huy slipped to his knees and, putting his face to the floor, stretched out his arms in homage, yet he was aware of Prince Amunhotep’s hand still lightly imprisoned in both of his own. “Ma’at,” he said huskily, and nothing more. His throat had closed of its own volition.

  “So you remember me now, Son of Hapu?” the goddess continued softly. “Where was your memory before the Horus Throne? Why did it not occur to you, Son of Perfidy, Son of Cowardice, that those you purport to hold so dear, your family, your servants, are dear to Atum also? That he would have rewarded your faithfulness to the truth you saw beneath the lies by securing your safety and theirs? And what of the lie to yourself? For I know that these meant less to you in that moment of trial than the paltry trappings of success that surround you. The Huy who lived in poverty with Ishat would not have been so craven. You have wounded me, and I am already wounded by the King who has forgotten the warning Atum gave him through your mouth so long ago. Your obligation was to remind him, to shout the words of prophecy into the ears of all gathered in that lofty room, to fill Egypt with a truth that would have saved her.”

  Huy, his face pressed against the cool tiling of the Prince’s reception hall, felt something warm and liquid strike the back of his head and ooze across his cheek to pool beside his nose. All at once he smelled the hot metal tang of freshly spilled blood. With a grunt, he jerked himself upward. Ma’at was bleeding through the pale fingers with which she was clutching the transparent linen over her heart. The thick scarlet flow had already saturated her sheath and was spattering her naked feet. In pushing himself away from the floor, Huy had placed his palms in it. Horrified, he held up both dripping hands, in supplication or defence he was not sure.