The City of Refuge: Book 1 of The Memphis Cycle

by Diana Wilder

  “Yes, Master Sennefer,” Nebamun sighed. “You may accompany them and look over the supplies for the infirmary, which did indeed arrive, as you well know. I saw you speaking with the messenger before he came in here.”

  Perineb folded his arms with a smile.

  Nebamun caught his glance and returned the smile. “Father Perineb will accompany you as my representative,” he said.

  Perineb looked thoughtful, but he made no comment.

  “Won't Your Grace be accompanying us,?” Seti asked.

  “No, General,” Nebamun replied. “Reverence can make my excuses to Mayor Huni.”

  “Forgive me, Your Grace,” Khonsu said. “I'm not sure that's a good idea. If you suspect the mayor may be winking at shortages in the supplies, slighting him like this could be dangerous.”

  Nebamun's eyes creased a little at the corners, but his voice was frosty when he replied. “You're kind to concern yourself with my safety, Commander. Mayor Huni does not frighten me.”

  Khonsu colored a little at the snub. “Your Grace will remember that the security of the supply lines is one of my concerns.”

  Nebamun's eyes met his for a long, cool moment, then warmed. “I beg your pardon, Commander. They are indeed your responsibility and you are right to show concern. But I won't be accompanying you.”

  ** ** **

  Khonsu rested his forearms on the top bar of the flagship and gazed toward the shore.

  The morning's conference had ended with Nebamun's announcement of a regular town patrol under Paser's leadership that would not only keep the peace in Akhet-Aten but serve as a liaison between the quarrying force when it was finally set up and the expedition's headquarters in the city. Paser was directed to conduct an inventory of the houses and properties and give His Grace some idea of the salvage to be found in the city.

  Nebamun announced that Seti's group would be put to work patrolling the outlying boundaries in search of smugglers or thieves, since it did not appear that the quarries would be worked within the near future. No mention had been made of the abortive attempt to catch the intruder, to Seti's and Khonsu's relief, and now, with Akhet-Aten and its shadows safely behind them, the atmosphere on the ship was one of relaxation and enjoyment.

  Seti drummed his long fingers on the polished wood and watched as a crocodile heaved itself up on the far bank of the river. “We're behind schedule for setting up quarrying operations,” he said. “I'm not sure we'll begin soon. His Grace is keeping us on a tight leash.”

  “Very tight,” Khonsu agreed. “With everything here, he's wise to move cautiously. I'd heard stories of “the accursed city', but I never thought to see the reputation being supported. We have been fed tales of ghosts, curses and intruders at every possible turn.”

  “His Grace is being circumspect,” Seti agreed.

  “He's a sensible man,” Khonsu said. “It's through his levelheadedness we're still at the city. If anyone else were in charge, the venture would have been scrapped long ago.”

  Sennefer, standing beside General Seti, snorted. He caught Khonsu's suddenly annoyed expression and shrugged. “Don't misunderstand me, gentlemen,” he said. “His Grace is less of a pig-headed fool than most of the rest of humankind. But you didn't see the month leading up to the start of this expedition, almost two years ago. You might have changed your mind if you had.”

  “What do you mean?” demanded Seti.

  Sennefer folded his arms with a frown. “Pharaoh came to Memphis in person to speak with Prince Thutmose. They spoke behind closed doors. His Grace was summoned to the Presence after some time. That is when things became interesting.”

  He broke off as one of Khonsu's men came up to announce that they were approaching Khebet.

  “What happened?” Seti asked after the man had left.

  Sennefer looked thoughtful. “No one was present at that audience other than His Grace, His Highness and Pharaoh,” he said. “So I'm not sure what was said. I do know His Majesty was upset when he left Prince Thutmose's palace. General Ramesses arrived from Thebes some days later, and they spoke again. People who had business nearby reported hearing raised voices, but they couldn't make out what was being said. At the end of that time His Grace left for his own home. I saw him: he was white-faced and shaking.”

  “I wonder what happened to upset him so,” Khonsu said. “He seems the calmest, most reasonable of men.”

  Sennefer lifted one mobile eyebrow. “I can't say,” he said. “But the rumors began to fly. We heard that His Grace had flatly refused to obey a command from Pharaoh himself. And then I heard that His Grace had actually raised his voice not only to Pharaoh, but also to Prince Thutmose, whom he reveres and loves. There were four more meetings over the course of the next two weeks, and His Majesty and General Ramesses were present each time.”

  “My father mentioned nothing of this to me,” Seti remarked with a frown.

  “No one was talking,” Sennefer said. “And Memphis was abuzz with speculation. Personally, I think it was His Grace cutting up rough. He can be stubborn and obstreperous, I can tell you!”

  Ptahemhat was scowling. “I don't want to hear you discussing His Grace like this,” he said.

  “Is that so, son?” Seti said with a genial smile. “Feel free to go to the other side of the ship, then.”

  Ptahemhat stared at him, turned on his heel, and left.

  Khonsu watched him and then turned back to Sennefer. “What was the trouble about?” he asked.

  “I'm not sure,” said Sennefer. “I think it may have sprung from His Majesty's and Prince Thutmose's decision to send this force, and their choice of Lord Nebamun as leader. I can't stop thinking that someone was strongly opposed to the entire venture.”

  “But why?” Khonsu asked. “We have seen what a capable man His Grace is. And it can't be because of the tales of ghosts. Why, Lord Nebamun has belittled the notion from the first.”

  “None of those concerns explains my father's presence in Memphis,” Seti said.

  They were approaching Khebet. Khonsu could see the quays of the city, thronged with cheering spectators. He nodded to the ship's Captain.

  “I doubt the quarrel had anything to do with ghosts,” Sennefer said as the oars emerged from their portals, dipped, raised, and dipped again, propelling them swiftly toward the docks. “I suspect it had something to do with His Grace going to Khebet. I still remember him after his first meeting with His Highness and Pharaoh, storming out of His Highness' Palace. He ordered that a team of horses be harnessed, and when they came he took himself off to the desert to spend the rest of the day racing through the hills between Memphis and Sakkara!”

  They were alongside the docks now. Seti turned away from the dockworkers who stood waiting with coils of rope and looked at Sennefer. “Well, he's here now,” he said. “Something must have changed his mind.”

  Sennefer smiled and raised his hands. “I think it was a lady,” he said. “Prince Thutmose's daughter, Lady Mayet.” His sharp face softened into a warm smile. “She's one of the most charming women I have ever had the privilege to know. It's obvious to anyone with eyes that the sun rises and sets on Her Ladyship for Lord Nebamun. She spoke to Prince Thutmose and then to her husband. And here he is.”

  Seti straightened and watched the activity on the dock as they were made fast. “And here we are,” he said. “I'm looking forward to meeting this fellow Huni. I wonder what ghost story he'll have for me.”

  ** ** **

  Huni had seemed to take Lord Nebamun's absence as an insult but managed to disguise the fact from anyone lacking perception. As they sat down to dine, he spoke of the intruder from the north with the air of one recounting a well-known story after much rehearsal.

  Seti stopped him. “I've heard all this before,” he said. “I am inclined to dismiss it as a figment of someone's imagination helped along by a lot of strong, cheap beer.”

  Huni caught Ptahemhat's stare and the glance Seti shot Khonsu. “Oh no,” he said. “It's t
rue. I have seen him, myself.”

  “Have you, now?” Seti asked, contemptuously genial.

  “I have seen him in the night, beneath the moon. His horses move silently and he seems to glitter in the moonlight. They always take him for a desert patroller who got separated from his company.” Huni's voice dropped lower. “And then you see his face...”

  Khonsu turned a quizzical smile on the man, stirred in spite of himself, by a sense of doom.

  Huni lowered his voice. “It is a pit of blackness, broken by the glitter of eyes.”

  Khonsu folded his arms, remembering the charioteer he had glimpsed in the night, going along the crest of the hills north of the city. “And why does he appear?” he asked.

  “Who can say?” Huni replied. “Some say he's searching for aid that never comes. He looks north, always north, and over the sound of the wind you can hear him wailing in despair.”

  XX

  “Very affecting,” said Lord Nebamun late that afternoon after he had heard Perineb's report of their journey to Khebet. Khonsu caught an uncharacteristic ring of sarcasm in his voice. “What is this ghostly fellow trying to do? Did Huni say?”

  Seti shook his head. “Huni tells us he's trying to save his father. 'Crying most piteously for assistance that never comes'.”

  “Touching,” Nebamun said. His brows drew together. “You'd think the ghost would be smart enough, if he knows his father needs help, to be seen, rather, at his father's side.' He added, “But perhaps Huni's near-sighted.”

  Khonsu examined his fingertips. “His description was careful,” he said. “Right down to the details of his horses.”

  “What does he drive? Matched sorrels?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” Perineb replied.

  “I see,” Nebamun said. “I had better post a guard around my team, then, or else risk them being stolen and having Huni claim they were abducted by this ghost.' His frown deepened. “But Mayor Huni's rather cool-headed,” he said. “Confronted by a weird, wailing apparition, with all his friends scampering back to Khebet in mortal terror, he apparently paused to take notes.”

  Seti's choke of laughter was hurriedly changed to a cough.

  Khonsu smiled.

  “So this phantom wails,” Nebamun said at last. “It doesn't sound so dreadful, unless you're a musician and the specter is completely tuneless. Very well, Commander: what does this fool of a mayor say happens next?”

  “The ghost covers his face with a shriek-”

  Nebamun's brows lifted again. “I thought Huni said the fellow was faceless.”

  Khonsu's voice was beginning to quiver. “-crumples to his knees-”

  “Better and better,” Nebamun said. “He must be driving a big Hittite rig. He'd fall out of one of our chariots if he went to his knees.”

  “-and vanishes,” Khonsu finished, careful not to look at Seti.

  “Leaving his horses behind without a driver,” Nebamun said. “Do they stampede? Or do the horses scream and vanish as well?”

  “Huni didn't say,” Seti replied.

  “I see,” said Nebamun. “Upon coming encountering you, the ghost claps its hands over what passes for its face, shrieks and vanishes. It seems rude but pointless. Whatever does he do it for?”

  “Huni says he's learned of his father's death,” Seti said.

  Nebamun hooked a finger about the gold chain that circled his neck and drew the carnelian udjat amulet up. “His father's death?” he repeated. He looked down at the amulet with an odd quirk to his mouth and began to laugh.

  The full-throated sound was contagious.

  Seti was beginning to smile widely. “That's what he told us, Your Grace.”

  “And this fearsome specter has the entire town of Khebet terrorized,” Nebamun said, wiping at his eyes with quivering fingertips. “A creature that moans, wails, covers its eyes, shrieks, falls to its knees, and then disappears. It seems a silly ghost. Does it cause any harm after it screeches and vanishes, pray?”

  “Huni seemed to think the wailing and shrieking were enough,” Khonsu said.

  Nebamun looked over at Perineb. “Your Reverence is silent,” he said. “Does this dreadful ghost have you frightened?”

  Perineb smiled and shook his head. “I would think it piteous-if I believed it existed. I certainly wouldn't be afraid of it.”

  Nebamun was still chuckling. “I should think the greatest danger any ordinary mortal could possibly fear from this idiotic apparition is that he might split his sides laughing,” he said. He considered and then added judiciously, “Or maybe soil his linen, if he was taken unawares.”

  The comment led to a fresh gale of laughter. Nebamun drew a deep, shaking breath. “Well, then,” he said. “Since Huni knows so much about this ghost's history, perhaps he has given it a name.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” said Seti.

  Nebamun looked down at his fingers. The chain was twined through them like a game of cat's cradle, the pendant dangling between his thumb and forefinger. “Tell me,” he said.

  “Huni says it is Neb-Aten,” said Seti. “He was the nephew of the heretic, Akhenaten, and the son of Nakht, the Vizier.”

  Lord Nebamun's gaze seemed to shorten, as though he were gazing at something standing directly before him. His faint smile hesitated, then deepened as he let the amulet fall against his breastbone. “Neb-Aten,” he said. The name was spoken slowly, as though it were moving into being through a mist of years.

  “Nakht died in this city, didn't he?” asked Khonsu.

  Nebamun sat back and folded his hands in his lap. “Yes,” he said. “He did.”

  Seti shook his head. “I've heard a great deal about Nakht,” he said. “He was an able and intelligent man, but he served the wrong king, and once the king was gone, who was there to blame but his closest servant?”

  Nebamun was silent.

  “Nakht deserved a better lord,” Seti said. “To serve a master who lounges limply in a chair, smiling weakly upon cringing courtiers, cuddling his children in his lap while his empire crumbles around him-'

  “You have children, I believe, General?” Nebamun said slowly. “And a large family?”

  “Why-yes, Your Grace,” Seti replied, flashing him a surprised look.

  “How would you behave if within less than two years you lost four beloved daughters, a son, a grandchild, a wife whom you treasured, and your mother, whom all revered as a great woman? And if those losses were followed by a string of deaths among your friends and close kinsmen, what then? Would you go striding about your business? Or would you remain where you are, huddled in upon yourself, wondering when the next blow will fall? For that is what happened to Akhenaten, and it is a wonder, in the face of such a string of tragedies, not that he allowed matters to deteriorate as they did, but rather that they weren't allowed to deteriorate more.”

  “I think we have Prince Nakht to thank for that,” Seti said. “My father has often spoken of him. A powerful prince and a great man, he said. I met him, but I remember little about him. Now his family is gone as well.”

  “Yes,” said Nebamun. “They're all dead. Neb-Aten was his only child. We were the same age. He was as foolish and headstrong as his father was wise and noble. He had nothing to recommend him but a pretty face.”

  Nebamun's vehemence made Perineb raise his eyebrows. “A man may change over the years, Your Grace,” he said with quiet firmness. “He might have become like his father in all respects.”

  Nebamun looked at Perineb for a long moment and then shook his head. “Not him.”

  Perineb only smiled at him.

  “Your Grace is too severe,” Seti said firmly. “My father liked Neb-Aten, and he respected him, too.”

  “It is good of you, General, to speak in defense of one you didn't know,” said Nebamun. “But I did know Prince Nakht's son. And that young fool is Huni's ghost. Not Akhenaten, who built this city and lost everyone he loved here. Not Prince Nakht, who was hounded into taking his own life here. Not all the
other mighty ones who passed through here on the way to their deaths, from Prince Nakhtmin, Akhenaten's brother, to Queen Ankhesenamun, his daughter, murdered after she appealed to the Hittites for help. None of these have returned. Only an overgrown brat of a man who was scarcely great enough to fill a room with his personality while he lived, much less terrorize a city after he died. And such a ghost!”

  Nebamun, laughing again, sat back and looked around at the others standing before him and staring at him. “Listen to me, all of you,” he said when he had caught his breath. “There is no ghost. But if one exists, then upon my life Neb-Aten, son of Nakht, son of Ahmose, poses no threat to anyone in this city, alive or dead. It is close to nightfall now. Huni says the ghost appears every night, patrolling the distant heights north of the city? Why do I get the feeling that we'll be seeing it tonight? Very well: I'll spend this night on the heights. I promise you all that this Neb-Aten won't come face to face with me, and I'll return in the morning unscathed and without fear. That should take care of that particular specter.”

  Khonsu felt a thrill of alarm. “There may be no ghost, Your Grace,” he said. “But there might well be another explanation. I told you last night that my men have reported seeing a chariot patrolling the northern heights of the city.”

  “And does the charioteer cover his face, shriek and vanish?” Nebamun asked with an amused smile.

  “He drives away.”

  “Not the ghost, then,” Nebamun said. “I'll do as I have said.”

  “There are rich tombs north of the city,” Khonsu said. “Rich tombs-and possibly tomb robbers. You shouldn't tangle with their sort unless you have a strong force at your back. I can't say it strongly enough, Your Grace: stay in the city!”

  “It's impossible,” Nebamun said. “I'll pass the night along the northern track. Neb-Aten's ghost can settle with any tomb-robbers there may be.”

  “But Your Grace-' Khonsu began.

  Perineb had been listening with a disapproving frown. “Your Grace is unwise to put yourself in danger,” he said. “If the Commander, who is familiar with this area and all its dangers, advises against it, then I'd listen to him. You're being irresponsible.”