‘Who would not? He is such a handsome, attractive boy.’
‘Handsome is as handsome does,’ said Esa sharply.
She was silent a moment or two, then she said slowly: ‘Henet–I am worried.’
‘Worried, Esa? What would worry you? Anyway, the master will soon be here and then all will be well.’
‘Will it? I wonder.’
She was silent once more, then she said:
‘Is my grandson Yahmose in the house?’
‘I saw him coming towards the porch a few moments ago.’
‘Go and tell him I wish to speak with him.’
Henet departed. She found Yahmose on the cool porch with its gaily coloured columns and gave him Esa’s message.
Yahmose obeyed the summons at once.
Esa said abruptly:
‘Yahmose, very soon Imhotep will be here.’
Yahmose’s gentle face lighted up.
‘Yes, that will indeed be good.’
‘All is in order for him? Affairs have prospered?’
‘My father’s instructions have been carried out as well as I could compass them.’
‘What of Ipy?’
Yahmose sighed.
‘My father is over indulgent where that boy is concerned. It is not good for the lad.’
‘You must make that clear to Imhotep.’
Yahmose looked doubtful.
Esa said firmly: ‘I will back you up.’
‘Sometimes,’ said Yahmose, sighing, ‘there seems to be nothing but difficulties. But everything will be right when my father comes. He can make his own decisions then. It is hard to act as he would wish in his absence–especially when I have no authority, and only act as his delegate.’
Esa said slowly:
‘You are a good son–loyal and affectionate. You have been a good husband too, you have obeyed the proverb that says that a man should love his wife and make a home for her, that he should fill her belly and put clothes on her back, and provide expensive ointments for her toilet and that he should gladden her heart as long as she lives. But there is a further precept–it goes like this: Prevent her from getting the mastery. If I were you, grandson, I should take that precept to heart…’
Yahmose looked at her, flushed deeply and turned away.
CHAPTER THREE
THIRD MONTH OF INUNDATION 14TH DAY
Everywhere there was bustle and preparation. Hundreds of loaves had been baked in the kitchen, now ducks were roasting; there was a smell of leeks and garlic and various spices. Women were shouting and giving orders, serving men ran to and fro.
Everywhere ran the murmur:
‘The master–the master is coming…’
Renisenb, helping to weave garlands of poppies and lotus flowers, felt an excited happiness bubbling up in her heart. Her father was coming home! In the last few weeks she had slipped imperceptibly back into the confines of her old life. That first sense of unfamiliarity and strangeness, induced in her, she believed, by Hori’s words, had gone. She was the same Renisenb–Yahmose, Satipy, Sobek and Kait were all the same –now, as in the past, there was all the bustle and fuss of preparations for Imbotep’s return. Word had come ahead that he would be with them before nightfall. One of the servants had been posted on the river bank to give warning of the master’s approach, and suddenly his voice rang out loud and clear giving the agreed call.
Renisenb dropped her flowers and ran out with the others. They all hastened towards the mooring place on the River bank. Yahmose and Sobek were already there in a little crowd of villagers, fishermen and farm labourers, all calling out excitedly and pointing.
Yes, there was the barge with its great square sail coming fast up the river with the North wind bellying out the sail. Close behind it was the kitchen barge crowded with men and women. Presently Renisenb could make out her father sitting holding a lotus flower and with him someone whom she took to be a singer.
The cries on the bank redoubled, Imhotep waved a welcoming hand, the sailors were heaving and pulling on the halyards. There were cries of ‘Welcome to the master,’ calls upon the Gods, and thanks for his safe return, and a few moments later Imhotep came ashore, greeting his family and answering the loud salutations that etiquette demanded.
‘Praise be to Sobek, the child of Neith, who has brought you safely on the water!’ ‘Praise be to Ptah, south of the Memphite wall, who brings you to us! Thanks be to Ré who illumines the Two Lands!’
Renisenb pressed forward, intoxicated with the general excitement.
Imhotep drew himself up importantly and suddenly Renisenb thought: ‘But he is a small man. I thought of him as much bigger than that.’
A feeling that was almost dismay passed over her.
Had her father shrunk? Or was her own memory at fault? She thought of him as rather a splendid being, tyrannical, often fussy, exhorting everybody right and left, and sometimes provoking her to quiet inward laughter, but nevertheless a personage. But this small, stout, elderly man, looking so full of his own importance and yet somehow failing to impress–what was wrong with her? What were these disloyal thoughts that came into her head?
Imhotep, having finished the sonorous and ceremonial phrases, had arrived at the stage of more personal greetings. He embraced his sons.
‘Ah, my good Yahmose, all smiles, you have been diligent in my absence, I am sure…And Sobek, my handsome son, still given to merriness of heart, I see. And here is Ipy–my dearest Ipy–let me look at you–stand away–so. Grown bigger, more of a man, how it rejoices my heart to hold you again! And Renisenb–my dear daughter–once more in the home. Satipy, Kait, my no less dear daughters…And Henet–my faithful Henet–’
Henet was kneeling, embracing his knees, and ostentatiously wiping tears of joy from her eyes.
‘It is good to see you, Henet–you are well–happy? As devoted as ever–that is pleasant to the heart…
‘And my excellent Hori, so clever with his accounts and his pen! All has prospered? I am sure it has.’
Then, the greetings finished and the surrounding murmur dying down, Imhotep raised his hand for silence and spoke out loud and clear.
‘My sons and daughters–friends. I have a piece of news for you. For many years, as you all know, I have been a lonely man in one respect. My wife (your mother, Yahmose and Sobek) and my sister (your mother, Ipy) have both gone to Osiris many years ago. So to you, Satipy and Kait, I bring a new sister to share your home. Behold, this is my concubine, Nofret, whom you shall love for my sake. She has come with me from Memphis in the North and will dwell here with you when I go away again.’
As he spoke he drew forward a woman by the hand. She stood there beside him, her head flung back, her eyes narrowed, young, arrogant and beautiful.
Renisenb thought, with a shock of surprise: ‘But she’s quite young–perhaps not as old as I am.’
Nofret stood quite still. There was a faint smile on her lips–it had more derision in it than any anxiety to please.
She had very straight black brows and a rich bronze skin, and her eyelashes were so long and thick that one could hardly see her eyes.
The family, taken aback, stared in dumb silence. With a faint edge of irritation in his voice, Imhotep said:
‘Come now, children, welcome Nofret. Don’t you know how to greet your father’s concubine when he brings her to his house?’
Haltingly and stumblingly the greetings were given.
Imhotep, affecting a heartiness that perhaps concealed some uneasiness, exclaimed cheerfully:
‘That’s better! Nofret, Satipy and Kait and Renisenb will take you to the women’s quarters. Where are the trunks? Have the trunks been brought ashore?’
The round-topped travelling trunks were being carried from the barge. Imhotep said to Nofret:
‘Your jewels and your clothes are here safely. Go and see to their bestowing.’
Then, as the women moved away together, he turned to his sons.
‘And what of the estate? D
oes all go well?’
‘The lower fields that were rented to Nakht–’ began Yahmose, but his father cut him short.
‘No details now, good Yahmose. They can wait. Tonight is rejoicing. Tomorrow you and I and Hori here will get to business. Come, Ipy, my boy, let us walk to the house. How tall you have grown–your head is above mine.’
Scowling, Sobek walked behind his father and Ipy. Into Yahmose’s ear he murmured:
‘Jewels and clothes–did you hear? That is where the profits of the Northern estates have gone. Our profits.’
‘Hush,’ whispered Yahmose. ‘Our father will hear.’
‘What if he does? I am not afraid of him as you are.’
Once in the house, Henet came to Imhotep’s room to prepare the bath. She was all smiles.
Imhotep abandoned a little of his defensive heartiness.
‘Well, Henet, and what do you think of my choice?’
Although he had determined to carry things off with a high hand, he had known quite well that the arrival of Nofret would provoke a storm–at least in the women’s part of the house. Henet was different. A singularly devoted creature. She did not disappoint him.
‘She is beautiful! Quite beautiful! What hair, what limbs! She is worthy of you, Imhotep, what can I say more than that? Your dear wife who is dead will be glad that you have chosen such a companion to gladden your days.’
‘You think so, Henet?’
‘I am sure of it, Imhotep. After mourning her so many years it is time that you once more enjoyed life.’
‘You knew her well…I, too, felt it was time to live as a man should live. Er ahem–my sons’ wives and my daughter–they will take this with resentment perhaps?’
‘They had better not,’ said Henet. ‘After all, do they not all depend upon you in this house?’
‘Very true, very true,’ said Imhotep.
‘Your bounty feeds and clothes them–their welfare is entirely the result of your efforts.’
‘Yes, indeed.’ Imhotep sighed. ‘I am continually active on their behalf. I sometimes doubt if they realize all they owe to me.’
‘You must remind them of it,’ said Henet, nodding her head. ‘I, your humble devoted Henet, never forget what I owe you–but children are sometimes thoughtless and selfish, thinking, perhaps, that it is they who are important and not realizing that they only carry out the instructions that you give.’
‘That is indeed most true,’ said Imhotep. ‘I have always said you were an intelligent creature, Henet.’
Henet sighed. ‘If others only thought so.’
‘What is this? Has anyone been unkind to you?’
‘No, no–that is, they do not mean it–it is a matter of course to them that I should work unceasingly (which I am glad to do)–but a word of affection and appreciation, that is what makes all the difference.’
‘That you will always have from me,’ said Imhotep. ‘And this is always your home, remember.’
‘You are too kind, master.’ She paused and added: ‘The slaves are ready in the bathroom with the hot water–and when you have bathed and dressed, your mother asks that you should go to her.’
‘Ah, my mother? Yes–yes, of course…’
Imhotep looked suddenly slightly embarrassed. He covered his confusion by saying quickly:
‘Naturally–I had intended that–tell Esa I shall come.’
II
Esa, dressed in her best pleated linen gown, peered across at her son with a kind of sardonic amusement.
‘Welcome, Imhotep. So you have returned to us–and not alone, I hear.’
Imhotep, drawing himself up, replied rather shame-facedly:
‘Oh, so you have heard?’
‘Naturally. The house is humming with the news. The girl is beautiful, they say, and quite young.’
‘She is nineteen and–er–not ill looking.’
Esa laughed–an old woman’s spiteful cackle.
‘Ah, well,’ she said, ‘there’s no fool like an old fool.’
‘My dear mother. I am really at a loss to understand what you mean.’
Esa replied composedly:
‘You always were a fool, Imhotep.’
Imhotep drew himself up and spluttered angrily. Though usually comfortably conscious of his own importance, his mother could always pierce the armour of his self-esteem. In her presence he felt himself dwindling. The faint sarcastic gleam of her nearly sightless eyes never failed to disconcert him. His mother, there was no denying, had never had an exaggerated opinion of his capabilities. And although he knew well that his own estimate of himself was the true one and his mother’s a maternal idiosyncrasy of no importance–yet her attitude never failed to puncture his happy conceit of himself.
‘Is it so unusual for a man to bring home a concubine?’
‘Not at all unusual. Men are usually fools.’
‘I fail to see where the folly comes in.’
‘Do you imagine that the presence of this girl is going to make for harmony in the household? Satipy and Kait will be beside themselves and will inflame their husbands.’
‘What has it to do with them? What right have they to object?’
‘None.’
Imhotep began to walk up and down angrily.
‘Can I not do as I please in my own house? Do I not support my sons and their wives? Do they not owe the very bread they eat to me? Do I not tell them so without ceasing?’
‘You are too fond of saying so, Imhotep.’
‘It is the truth. They all depend on me. All of them!’
‘And are you sure that this is a good thing?’
‘Are you saying that it is not a good thing for a man to support his family?’
Esa sighed.
‘They work for you, remember.’
‘Do you want me to encourage them in idleness? Naturally they work.’
‘They are grown men–at least Yahmose and Sobek are–more than grown.’
‘Sobek has no judgement. He does everything wrong. Also he is frequently impertinent which I will not tolerate. Yahmose is a good obedient boy–’
‘A good deal more than a boy!’
‘But sometimes I have to tell him things two or three times before he takes them in. I have to think of everything–be everywhere! All the time I am away, I am dictating to scribes–writing full instructions so that my sons can carry them out…I hardly rest–I hardly sleep! And now when I come home, having earned a little peace, there is to be fresh difficulty! Even you, my mother, deny my right to have a concubine like other men–you are angry–’
Esa interrupted him.
‘I am not angry. I am amused. There will be good sport to watch in the household–but I say all the same that when you go North again you had best take the girl with you.’
‘Her place is here, in my household! And woe to any who dare ill-treat her.’
‘It is not a question of ill-treatment. But remember, it is easy to kindle a fire in dry stubble. It has been said of women that “the place where they are is not good…”’
Esa paused and said slowly:
‘Nofret is beautiful. But remember this: Men are made fools by the gleaming limbs of women, and lo, in a minute they are become discoloured cornelians…’
Her voice deepened as she quoted:
‘A trifle, a little, the likeness of a dream, and death comes as the end…’
CHAPTER FOUR
THIRD MONTH OF INUNDATION 15TH DAY
Imhotep listened to Sobek’s explanation of the sale of the timber in ominous silence. His face had grown very red and a small pulse was beating in his temple.
Sobek’s air of easy nonchalance wore a little thin. He had intended to carry things off with a high hand, but in the face of his father’s gathering frowns, he found himself stammering and hesitating.
Imhotep finally cut him short impatiently.
‘Yes, yes, yes–you thought that you knew more than I did–you departed from my instructions–it is always the sa
me–unless I am here to see to everything…’ He sighed. ‘What would become of you boys without me I cannot imagine!’
Sobek went on doggedly:
‘There was a chance of making a much bigger profit –I took the risk. One cannot always be pettifogging and cautious!’
‘There is nothing cautious about you, Sobek! You are rash and much too bold and your judgement is always wrong.’
‘Do I ever have a chance to exercise my judgement?’
Imhotep said drily:
‘You have done so this time–and against my express orders–’
‘Orders? Have I always got to take orders? I am a grown man.’
Losing control of his temper, Imhotep shouted:
‘Who feeds you, who clothes you? Who thinks of the future? Who has your welfare–the welfare of all of you–constantly in mind? When the River was low and we were threatened with famine, did I not arrange for food to be sent south to you? You are lucky to have such a father–who thinks of everything! And what do I ask in return? Only that you should work hard, do your best, and obey the instructions I send you–’
‘Yes,’ shouted Sobek. ‘We are to work for you like slaves–so that you can buy gold and jewels for your concubine!’
Imhotep advanced towards him, bristling with rage.
‘Insolent boy–to speak like that to your father. Be careful or I will say that this is no longer your home–and you can go elsewhere!’
‘And if you are not careful I will go! I have ideas, I tell you–good ideas–that would bring in wealth if I was not tied down by pettifogging caution and never allowed to act as I choose.’
‘Have you finished?’
Imhotep’s tone was ominous. Sobek, a trifle deflated, muttered angrily:
‘Yes–yes–I have no more to say–now.’
‘Then go and see after the cattle. This is no time for idling.’
Sobek turned and strode angrily away. Nofret was standing not far away and as he passed her she looked sideways at him and laughed. At her laugh the blood came up in Sobek’s face–he made an angry half step towards her. She stood quite still, looking at him out of contemptuous half-closed eyes.
Death Comes as the End Page 3
