She swung to her feet and, coming around the table in a swirl of thin linen and a rush of perfume, cradled his face in her hands. The gesture, so smooth and unexpected, nearly unmanned him. “Will you be able to control it?” she said gently. “You must control it, Huy, if you are to guide my son through his destiny as the Incarnation of Amun. I have seen the dissolution of those nobles whose greed for the poppy now rules their lives. They have become prisoners of the drug.” For a moment those warm palms lingered on his face, then she removed them and folded her arms. “This is Egypt,” she continued with seeming irrelevance. “As a Princess my power to command you is limited, therefore I merely beseech you. Will you receive my son into your home once a year for a month or so? You have much to teach him.”
Your mind is made up, he thought, looking into those huge, limpid eyes, and you have a will of iron. Your husband is no match for you. You have utterly ignored my argument regarding his unfortunate brother, and you expect me to do the same. Well, I see no harm in acceding to your first request. I am beginning to like the boy, and he will be good company for me.
“May I take him into the town with me as Thothhotep and I go about our business?” he wanted to know, his words an obvious capitulation.
Mutemwia smiled widely. “Certainly, providing you use your judgment as to what he may or may not see. It is good for a ruler to observe the lives of his subjects. So, this matter is settled?”
“Yes.”
“Then I shall bid you a good night.” She began to move towards the door, then stopped and turned. “Your scribe. She has a diverse history. I presume that she has read every scroll I have sent you so far, and it is too late to ask you this, but do you trust her?”
Huy nodded. “Implicitly, Highness.”
“Good.” Then she was gone. Huy heard her address Wesersatet briefly, and by the time he himself reached the passage beyond, it was empty.
Making his way upstairs to his bedchamber, stepping over Tetiankh, who was deeply asleep, he walked to his couch and stood for a long time looking down on the vial of poppy his body servant had left on the table. He wanted it desperately, wanted the glow it spread through his body, the slight dislocation from reality it provided for his mind, the vivid colours with which it imbued his dreams, but in the end he left it where it was, pulling off his kilt and loincloth and crawling beneath his sheet as he allowed the words of the Book of Thoth to begin their unreeling behind his weariness.
It took him a long time to fall asleep. Quite apart from his body’s uncomfortable demand for the drug, the intense exchange between himself and the Princess needed dissection. Had he in fact been betrayed by those he knew and respected, or had they seen the Princess’s interest in him as an avenue for his advancement and had thus been eager to oblige her? The latter was far more likely. And what of her refusal to hear any argument for the exiled Prince’s reinstatement if Atum chose to alter the vision he, Huy, had seen, and to heal Ma’at’s wounds through the correct elevation of the elder son? Am I to keep that possibility before Mutemwia’s eyes, feed it into her ears, so that she sees it as at least an equal possibility to the crowning of her son? That prospect made his belly suddenly shrink and returned him to full consciousness. Resignedly, he sat up, reached for the vial, and took the opium in one gulp. Atum, help me to resist the desire to have my dosage increased, he prayed as he lay down again. No matter what events occur in the unfolding of my own future, save me from succumbing totally to this blessed seduction.
He fell asleep at once.
15
Pharaoh Amunhotep the Second’s funeral took place in the middle of the month of Khoiak, when the river had reached its highest flood level and there was a lull between the Feast of Hathor and the Feast of Sacrifice. Princess Mutemwia, little Amunhotep, and their entourage had remained with Huy for a further six days. During that time the Prince had gradually wriggled out from under the constraints of blood and protocol, and spent his time running half naked about the house and garden, eating whenever he wanted to, and fishing every sunset. Sometimes he left the watersteps with Wesersatet and his nurse, but more often he began to prefer the company of Huy and Anhur. Something about Anhur’s terse comments and the comforting solidity of his body drew the boy to him physically, as though, in demanding to sit on Anhur’s knee or having Anhur’s arms circle him as the captain of the guard showed him a better way to hold his rod, he was finding a security he had lacked. Huy recognized the need under Amunhotep’s cheerful prattle. It touched him, and a genuine fondness for the Prince grew in him. Mutemwia seemed content to allow her son the freedoms that life in the palace precluded. As long as he is guarded, she obviously sees no reason to interfere with his happiness, and besides, Huy often thought, she wants him to look forward to being here every year. He must come to regard my household as one of his own. The memories of his days in Nakht’s house flowed through his mind. He had been older than Amunhotep was now when his association with Thothmes’ family began, but the way in which he had been slowly integrated into their daily lives was the same.
It was true that neither mother nor son was able to retire until almost everyone else had taken to their couches, cots, or mattresses. Huy wondered if it was because the palace was a busy, noisy place and these two needed peace and silence or if there was a certain safety in knowing that those who continually surrounded them were unconscious. Wandering about his domain after darkness had fallen, Huy often encountered the Princess, always scrubbed and in her sleeping robe, walking alone under the palm trees beside the small canal that fed his garden or sitting with her back against a sycamore trunk, barely visible but for the grey blur of her voluminous linen. At first he imagined her driven by unrest, but she would call to him and he would approach to be welcomed with a smile and an invitation to keep her company. They spoke of many things during those night hours. Mutemwia questioned him closely about his childhood and his schooldays at Iunu, and particularly about the terrible day when Sennefer had aimed a throwing stick at him and changed his life forever. Huy remained aware of the gulf of blood and station between them in spite of her informality with him, and was careful never to overstep that invisible channel. Huy could tell that she was weighing his words, judging his suitability as a future adviser for her son, yet the knowledge ceased to make him tense. She was delightful to be with, a woman of intelligence and spirit, and they were becoming as friendly as it was possible for a commoner and a royal Princess to be.
Sometimes Huy entered his room to find young Amunhotep already there, perched on his couch and talking to Tetiankh as the servant trimmed the lamp or laid out his master’s clothing for the morning. The child never looked tired. Healthily brown and clear-eyed, he would greet Huy with a grin and often a hug, and once Huy was under his sheet, would lie beside him and demand a story. Huy groped among the history lessons he had endured and found tales of the mighty deeds of kingly ancestors, but he was seldom able to finish them without interruption. Amunhotep was full of questions. Why were the vile Setiu allowed to rule Egypt? When they had been driven out, why did King Ahmose stay in Weset, far from the proper palace at Mennofer? Why were the men of Kush always rebelling? And where, he asked once with relish, did Huy think the penis of Osiris might be? Isis had found all the pieces of him that Set had scattered except that. It could be buried anywhere. Even perhaps deep under the soil in Huy’s garden? Why didn’t Isis spend more time looking for it after she had found the rest of the god’s body? Didn’t he need it anymore?
Huy was less secure talking about the gods than he was in describing the Osiris-King Thothmes the First’s many battles. Osiris-King Thothmes the Third had spent seventeen years campaigning in the east and had secured many vassal states for Egypt. The boy was happiest hearing about the exploits of this great-grandfather after whom his own father was named. Then the questions became statements: “My father could do that if he wanted to.” “My father has a bigger army than that.” “My father is much richer than that.” With a pity that was
fast becoming a genuine affection, Huy realized that Amunhotep rarely saw his father, perhaps had never even spoken to him. He was, after all, only the son of a Second Wife. She would soon be a Queen but would not be entitled to wear a Queen’s crown. That honour belonged to Neferatiri, Thothmes’ Chief Wife. Huy was usually relieved when Heqarneheh arrived to carry the drowsy little body to his cot in his mother’s room and he himself could relax. Children are absorbing and amusing, but tiring also, Huy often decided before he slept, and this royal child is no exception.
As always during the Inundation, Huy was called to the town to deal with the customary rash of fevers, and on the nights when he returned home aching and exhausted, Mutemwia forbade Amunhotep to bother him. Amunhotep had begged to be allowed to go into Hut-herib with Huy and Thothhotep, but his mother had refused. “You are still too young,” she had said. “Later, when you are seven or eight, you may ask the Seer very politely if you may accompany him.” Amunhotep had stared at her, obviously deciding whether to sulk, whine, or acquiesce grudgingly. Acquiescence had won out, and Huy was free to swallow his poppy and lie in the blessed dimness of his bedchamber alone.
Then it was the middle of Athyr, and like a flock of graceful birds the members of the Princess’s staff lifted their heads, fluffed their bright feathers, and rose from the house to settle noisily on the barges. Mutemwia stood at the foot of the ramp with Amunhotep, who was almost unrecognizable in his silver bordered kilt, gilded leather sandals, and kohled eyes. A small protecting Eye of Horus in gold and black onyx hung from a slender chain around his neck, and a tiny golden ankh earring glinted in the sunlight as he looked up at Huy. “I am to come back to your estate next year if the gods will it,” he said. “Actually, I hope they want me to come sooner. I have enjoyed living like a commoner, and the fish here are very tasty.” He tugged at Huy’s hand until Huy bent low. “You are my new uncle,” he whispered. “I like you very much. If you and Anhur will move to Mennofer, I will order new apartments built for you in the palace gardens. Will you come?”
Huy glanced up at Mutemwia. She nodded. “There are many poor people who need me here, Highness,” he said, “and you must grow and study hard and obey those who have authority over you. But the time will come when you will send for me, and then I will see you in Mennofer.”
Huy saw a flash of purely adult speculation flit across the child’s strong features. “When I am King,” Amunhotep whispered again, his mouth barely moving. Then, in an abrupt and entirely youthful change of mood, his arms went around Anhur’s naked leg. “If my father goes to war, don’t go with him,” he said loudly.
Mutemwia reached for his arm and gently pulled him away. “I shall continue to write to you, Seer,” she told him. “I thank you for your hospitality.”
Huy bowed. “I look forward to reading your letters,” he replied. “May the soles of your feet be firm, Highness.”
At once Wesersatet and her guard moved forward; turning, she preceded them along the ramp and onto the deck. The ramp was run in. Huy could see the helmsman begin to manipulate the giant steering oar as her barge and then the others backed slowly away from the watersteps.
“The flood is still rising and there’s a current,” Thothhotep remarked. “She puts great faith in her sailors.”
“You may be sure that her husband provided her with his best,” Huy said, his eyes on the little fleet now forming a string of vessels on the distorted and murky surface of what had been the river. “I wonder what went through his mind when she requested them for a visit to me. Did he fear a Seeing? But she will be clever, Thothhotep. She will either convince him that no Seeing was ultimately necessary or she will concoct an innocuous vision to tell him about. I have not known such a resolute woman since—”
“Since Ishat,” his scribe put in. He swung to her, but she was smiling. “The Princess is indeed remarkable. It’s a pity that she’s not Chief Wife.”
Huy sighed. “She doesn’t need to be. She has complete faith in my vision. She sees her future in far more powerful terms than as a secondary wife. She believes that she will be Regent in Egypt.”
“And you?” The voice was Anhur’s. “What do you believe, Huy?”
The barges had disappeared. Huy turned his back on the turgid water. “I believe that Atum wills the vindication of Ma’at,” he said heavily. “Further than that I will not go.” Neither of his companions commented. For a while the three of them loitered on the path to the house while Anhur’s soldiers, their duty as an honour guard over, strode briskly past. Huy was aware that a pall had settled over him. “The house will seem empty for a while. I will miss the Prince’s laughter and the sight of the Princess wafting through my passages at night with her sleeping robe afloat.”
“There are no letters for you in the office,” Thothhotep said regretfully, “and we do not go into Hut-herib today. What will you do, Master?”
“Escape from all the cleaning and refurbishing going on in the house, and sit in the shade of the garden,” he replied gloomily. “I suppose you and Anhur will amuse each other.” For answer they bowed, linked arms, and strolled away, their heads together. Years ago I was trapped by a King’s generous gratitude, he thought, squinting after them, and that generosity made me weak in the presence of his son. Now I am facing yet another cage, the bars forged of a growing affection and a sense of new obligation instead of gold. If my vision for our absent Prince spoke true. If Thothmes has a mere nine years to reign. I find myself desperately wishing that it lied, that for once I was a mouse in Anubis’s mocking claws, that the Prince is busy raising an army in Mitanni to wrest the throne from his usurping brother and I will be left to continue the work of the god among my own kind. He recognized that these thoughts arose from a temporary sense of aimlessness now that his guests had gone, but he could not rid himself of them, and in the end he took a cushion out onto his roof and lay down in the shadow of one of the wind catchers. He did not sleep.
At the beginning of Tybi, Thothmes was crowned, becoming King Thothmes the Fourth. His Horus name, Ka-nakht-tut-Khau, meant Mighty Bull in His Risings Like the Form of the Sun. Other titles included Perfect of Diadems, Enduring of Kingship Like Atum, and Powerful of the Scimitar Who Subdues the Nine Bows, the traditional enemies of Egypt. The throne name he took was Menkheperura, “Everlasting are the Manifestations of Ra,” a detail that Huy, listening to Thothhotep read to him the account of the ceremony Ishat had written, did not miss. “The Aten is one of the manifestations of Ra,” he said when Thothhotep had finished. “There is no mention of Amun anywhere in his titles, and of course his name only means Son of Thoth. I wonder what changes we shall see in the administration.”
He had not been invited to the crowning ceremony and was not sorry. Mutemwia had sent him a hurried letter to tell him that Thothmes, busy and distracted with the endless matters of precedence and protocol a coronation demanded, had simply welcomed her back and asked no questions. All Egypt’s governors, mayors, and other officials had crowded into the temple to see the Double Crown set on Thothmes’ twenty-year-old head. Heby was among them, and in the second week of Tybi, Huy received a scroll from him.
Our new King is very handsome, and bore himself with dignity throughout the ceremony. Great Royal Wife and Queen Neferatiri positively glittered in the golden vulture crown, and even her little son Amunemhat was weighed down with a golden Horus for his youth lock, golden Horus earring dangling past his collarbone, golden necklaces hung with lapis ankhs and likenesses of Heh, god of eternity, almost obscuring his chest—gold everywhere! The feast afterwards went on all night, with dancers and magicians and fire-eaters entertaining us. Long before the King left the dais, Iupia and I were tired and ready to start for home, but of course we could not leave until His Majesty did. Iupia fell asleep on her cushions. All the same, it was a magnificent occasion and I feel privileged to have been invited.
Rumours are flying among my staff that there will be conscription, that the King will mount a military expedition into R
ethennu. Is it necessary? I don’t know. The east seems to have remained quiet since his father’s memorable foray, which you Saw for him in such detail, but of course Egypt’s spies in that region will be sending the palace more accurate information than I have. Your nephew, Amunhotep-Huy, is beside himself with anticipation. According to him, the soldiers stationed in the barracks here in Mennofer have been engaged in much drilling and mock battles lately, and Officer Irem, his trainer, is sure that the King will go to war. Amunhotep-Huy has already begun to beg me to let him march with Irem, but as he is still only eleven I cannot allow it. How many ancestorkings have NOT found it necessary to discipline Rethennu? Very few. So, dear brother, you may find yet another royal hand extended to you for a Seeing as Thothmes passes Hut-herib before striking east. Egypt has eight battle months when the flood recedes and the Black Land becomes dry. We can only wait and see what happens.
Iupia and I are in good health and so is baby Ramose, thank the gods. He is a quiet baby, toddling about quite contentedly by himself. His vocabulary is already much larger than Amunhotep-Huy’s was at his age. But do come and see for yourself. It has been too long since you and I have embraced. How are Hapu and Itu? You seldom write to me and do not tell me how our parents are.
“It’s true,” Huy admitted to Thothhotep as she placed Heby’s thick scroll on the table and poured herself water from the jug at Huy’s elbow. “I’m reluctant to leave the estate. I don’t dictate letters to Heby, yet I love him very much. I send Merenra to my parents with little gifts so that I don’t have to go to them myself. It’s as though I’ll attract the King’s attention if I stir from here.”
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