House of Dreams

by Pauline Gedge

  We tied up in the canal of Wepwawet’s temple one fiery noon and Disenk and I, surrounded by household guards, walked down the ramp and through the gaggle of excited villagers to be greeted by my totem’s High Priest. Hui remained in his cabin, but I wanted to make my first act one of worship and thanksgiving to the god who had guided my path all my life.

  They were all there, my old neighbours, in their coarse kilts and thick sheaths, their eyes inquisitive yet bashful as they took in the gold-tasselled canopy shielding me from the sun, the sheen of my black hair bound with a fillet of silver net, the flowing transparency of my ankle-length, pleated linen over white leather sandals on whose thongs tiny carnelians glowed reddish-orange. I smiled at them all, recognizing the girls who had feared and shunned me and suddenly pitying them for the harsh, deep colour of their skin, so damaged by the sun, the last evidences of fresh youth already giving way to an encroaching physical dissolution. I would have looked like that if I had stayed here, I thought with an inward shudder as I greeted them. My feet would already be calloused beyond repair, small lines etched by the sun would be appearing on my face, and my hands would be rough and chafed from household chores. Poor things, they are not my enemies any more.

  My guards pushed their way politely through the throng and I found myself before the High Priest. Beside him a shy little boy wielded a smoking censer. I bowed to the priest and he returned the reverence. “I remember you,” I said with wonder. “You taught Pa-ari his letters but you would not teach me, and now you have been elevated to a much more exalted position!” He was younger than my memories had shown me, no longer a faceless adult but a youngish man with a cheerful expression and alert brown eyes.

  “I should not have been so foolish, Thu,” he answered gaily, “for we hear that you have become an accomplished scribe and a physician, moreover! Welcome home! Your god awaits you!” I smiled back at him and followed as he turned and walked into the outer court.

  Wepwawet’s temple was smaller than my childish memory had made it, still a jewel but compact, more rustic. In the outer court Disenk bent to remove my sandals and I held out my hand for the offering I had brought, the gem-studded pectoral Hui had given to me after my feast with his friends. It cost me dear to part with it, but I owed Wepwawet far more than I could ever repay and that feeling of indebtedness had grown a thousandfold as I had looked at the village girls. But for my god’s indulgence I could have been one of them, standing gawking at the arrival of some painted and perfumed aristocrat come to pay her haughty respects to this minor deity. Not minor to me, I thought as I moved towards the inner court. I am your devoted slave, great Wepwawet.

  The gritty floor of the court was hot and it hurt the tender soles of my feet. I paused in the thin shade of the inner pylon, the High Priest and his acolyte ahead of me and facing the closed doors of the sanctuary, and as I did so a figure detached itself from behind the stone and came forward. “Pa-ari!” I shouted, and a moment later I was in his arms. We clung to one another for a long while, then he put me away and looked me up and down.

  “Gods you are a gorgeous creature!” he said, “and you smell wonderful. I have been allowed, allowed mind you, to accept your gift and place it before the doors. Apparently it is a great honour. The temple singers and dancers have been turned out on this momentous occasion. One of them is my betrothed. It is not every day that one of Pharaoh’s concubines deigns to visit Aswat.” He was smiling broadly but I could not read his eyes. He had grown into a handsome man, with a straight spine and broad chest, but his mouth was the same, ever ready to curve into a grin, and his gestures brought back vividly to me the joys and sorrows we had shared. I loved him desperately.

  “I am not a concubine yet!” I hissed back as the singers and dancers of which he spoke began to file into the court behind him. “Not until Father gives his permission! Now let me perform my obeisances to Wepwawet in peace!” The music had begun, and a singer’s lone voice rose in the verses of praise. The dancers lifted their systra. A drift of sweet incense enveloped me, and I knelt and prostrated myself before the sanctuary with a humility I showed to no other. This was Wepwawet’s moment, not mine.

  Afterwards, in the outer court, Disenk brushed down my sheath and briefly kneaded oil into my scratched knees and palms. As she did so, Pa-ari returned, his arm protectively around a dark, slim girl with the shy, darting eyes of a young doe. “Thu, this is Isis,” he said simply, and I leaned forward to formally kiss her cheek, feeling all at once hentis older than she, and worldly-wise, and just a little jaded. Jealousy stabbed me and was gone. Isis had the lithe body of a dancer and my thought, as I straightened and summoned up a smile, was that as long as she continued to dance for the God she would not become plump and flabby. I could not imagine my brother coupling with a dumpy village girl.

  “You are lovely, Isis,” I said. “I am very happy to meet you. You must be very special if my brother is in love with you.” Pa-ari beamed and the girl flashed me back a brilliant smile.

  “He is a terrible tease,” she told me. “According to him, I may look forward to a life of constant childbearing and unremitting household labour if I marry him.”

  “No,” I rejoined. “You will be the village queen. May I take him away from you for a while?” At once she pressed his hand and left us. I wanted to say something complimentary to Pa-ari about her, something politic, but the words stuck in my throat. I still wanted him entirely to myself. That much had not changed. He gave me a quizzical stare as the shadow of the canopy fell over us both, and we made our way out of the temple and across to the barge. The crowd had thinned. Of course, I thought cynically as we strode up the ramp and settled ourselves under the awning. They have run home to tell their friends and neighbours what they have seen.

  Disenk, efficient and unobtrusive, handed us fly whisks and cups of wine. She set refreshments before us and a bowl of water and cloths with which to cool ourselves if we wished. Then she went to sit in the shade of the mast, out of earshot but ready if summoned. There was no sound from inside the cabin.

  “Father will receive the Seer tonight,” Pa-ari said, sipping his wine with relish. “After greeting you, naturally. He does not say so, you know how Father is, but I think he will enjoy having the great man come to him instead of being peremptorily summoned like the last time. He has not changed much,” he went on as if in answer to my unspoken question, “and Mother not at all. She has been throwing one fit of outrage after another since the Seer’s scroll arrived with Pharaoh’s request, you know how narrow-minded the village is, but she is secretly pleased. She never did understand you, Thu.”

  “I know,” I murmured, not taking my eyes from his dear familiar face, the graceful, clever fingers curled around the stem of the cup, the brown hair fluttering against his bronzed neck. “Are you content to remain here, Pa-ari? Does your work in the temple satisfy you?” He nodded slowly.

  “I am the priests’ best scribe,” he said simply, “and I take pride in that accomplishment. Father is resigned to the fact that I will never work the land, but he has the slave your mentor sent and the scandal surrounding his arrival and the deeding of the khatoarouras has long since died away. I am preparing to wed.” He turned troubled eyes on me. “I know what that means to you, Thu, but you must also be aware that nothing will ever break the bond that unites us, not even my Isis. We have memories together that we made long before she danced into my dazzled vision!” He laughed. “You will make memories with Pharaoh but always we will have the secrets of our childhood to share.” His words were a precious balm to my ka and I pulled him to me and hugged him. “I am building a home for Isis and me with my own hands,” he said proudly. “It is beyond the temple, along the river path. And what of you, my sister? Are you happy? Are you sure that you want to be Pharaoh’s plaything instead of some worthy merchant’s wife?” His tone was light but I read true concern behind the humour.

  Oh, Hui, I thought inwardly, jolted by Pa-ari’s perception, how cunningly you have
created your masterpiece! “At one time I would have been content to marry a merchant,” I answered carefully, “but you see into my heart, Pa-ari. I can hide nothing from you. The daily round of life as mistress of a household would soon pall, and my restlessness would demand a new adventure. I intend to make the King my plaything, not the other way around!” Pa-ari hooted with mirth.

  “Besides which, my princess, you are lamentably lazy and care nothing for the stern demands of duty! I love you, Thu!”

  I wanted to tell him everything then. It hurt me that I felt a caution with him, a reluctance to confide in him my inadvertent killing of Kenna, my guilty lust for Prince Ramses, the mission Hui and his friends had placed upon me. But a man in love can be indiscreet and I did not want little Isis to be privy to my secrets. Perhaps I did my brother an injustice, but I could not take the chance. So I laughed with him, and the conversation turned to more innocuous things.

  In the violent blooding of a desert sunset, Hui and I left the barge and made our way along the path that led from the temple watersteps into the village. Ahead went two household guards. I followed on foot under my canopy, then came Ani, also on foot, and Hui in his closely curtained litter. Guards brought up the rear. For me it was a voyage back in time. There was the spot where I had waited for Pa-ari to be let out of school on the day he brought me the news of the Seer’s coming. I fancied that I could still see the imprint of my bare feet in the dead grasses. The season had been the same, Shemu. Further on was the place, hidden by scrub, where Pa-ari and I had sat in the dirt under the sycamore by the river and he had begun my lessons by drawing the names of the gods. But under these memories that brought a lump of sadness and sweetness to my throat was the stronger, more potent remembrance of a walk at night under the ghostly palms, watched by the kas of the neglected dead, with moonlight splashing cold across my way and dread and determination in my heart. The uncouth little peasant girl had gone to meet her fate and now Pharaoh’s concubine was retracing her steps in triumph. It was a heady moment.

  At the edge of the village square I spoke and the guards halted. The expanse of beaten earth seemed disappointingly small to me now. It no longer stretched into infinity with a promise of escape. A few ragged children stood well back in a protective cluster and watched me silently. Several young men and women and a group of their parents took a few timid steps towards me before stopping and waving. I waved back, but already I could see my father’s blond, tousled hair and solid bulk standing at the doorway of our house and forgetting my dignity I ran into his arms. He lifted me into the air before placing me gently down again and setting me away from him. His grave, thoughtful eyes smiled into mine. Pa-ari had been right. The lines of his face were perhaps etched a little deeper, his temples showed a suspicion of grey, but he was still my darling.

  “Well, Thu,” he said. “You look as out of place in Aswat, now, as a jewel on a pile of dung. But you remind me very much of your mother when I first saw her. You have risen in the world, my daughter. Come inside.” He shared a few easy words with the guards, and putting a heavy arm across my shoulders, drew me into the house. He had completely ignored Ani, and Hui’s litter which had been lowered to the scuffed dust of the square. My mother flew at me as I entered the tiny, dark reception room and smothered me against her bosom.

  “Thu! My little princess! You are here, you are alive! I did not think to see you again! Have you been treated kindly? Have you been a good girl? Have you remembered to say your prayers regularly?” She smelled of sweat and herbs and cooking pots. I extricated myself with difficulty and kissed her brown cheek.

  “I am very well, Mother,” I answered her smilingly. “As you can see, I have been treated with more than kindness. It is wonderful to see you also.” Her hands went to her hips.

  “And what is this about the Great One inviting you to live in the palace? You would do better to come home and work with me, Thu. The harem is not a nice place, or so I’ve heard, and you will come to grief, an innocent country girl like you. Your father can find you a respectable husband right here! How did you come to the attention of the Great One anyway?” The question dripped with suspicion and I laughed aloud.

  “Oh, Mother, I went to the palace with my Master to treat Pharaoh for a minor ailment. As for the harem, I’m sure that the House of Women is a perfectly safe and morally reproachless place to be!” I said. “After all, it is a serious thing, to be the wife of a God!”

  “A wife maybe,” she muttered darkly, “but what about a concubine?”

  “That is enough!” my father said to her sharply. “Go and bring the wine and cakes!” She grimaced, muttered something under her breath, then gave me a brilliant smile before disappearing. I sank onto a mat on the floor and Father went down to face me, crossing his legs and fixing me with a speculative stare.

  “None of it is quite as I remember,” I said, glancing about the room to break the fleeting awkwardness that had overtaken me. I did not add that its clean poverty as well as its size appalled me. Had I really lived in such surroundings and been unaware of their poverty? My father raised his eyebrows.

  “That is because you are so much older,” he mocked me gently. “I have missed you, Thu, and I have often thought of the day you came stumbling across the field and clung to my thigh and begged to be allowed to go to school. I could not afford to send you, of course, but I made a mistake in thinking that it did not matter. I underestimated both your intelligence and your dissatisfaction. If I had been able to raise the necessary goods with which to pay for your education perhaps you would have been content to stay here with us in Aswat.” Then he shook his head. “No, you would not!”

  “Do not reproach yourself,” I chided him. “You understand me, my father, and that is why you let me go north with my Master. I love you all, but I would have been desperately unhappy if I had stayed.”

  “And are you happy now? Will you be happy in Pharaoh’s arms? Do you want to be a concubine, Thu? The decision is yours, not mine, and I will support you in whatever direction you wish to go.” I looked into that calm, weather-beaten face and knew the sincerity of his love.

  “I am happy now,” I answered slowly, “and as for happiness in Pharaoh’s arms, who knows? Perhaps he will be so happy in mine that he will make me one of his wives.”

  “That cannot be,” my father said abruptly. “Rarely has a King married the daughter of a commoner, let alone a peasant, and then only for passionate love. Besides, what do you know about pleasing a man, Thu? There are women in the harem who have devoted their whole lives to that subject and yet are still discarded. Do not let your dreams of the future interfere with the realities of the present!” He was momentarily angry, why I did not know. And I was angry too, for his words had touched me on the tender quick of my secret fantasies.

  “I do not see the end of my road,” I said, “but I must walk it. I cannot stand in one place, no matter how delightful that may be. I want to look around the next bend, oh, my father!” He sighed.

  “Then that is settled. Have you asked your Master if he will continue to house you if you change your mind? Will he find you a suitable husband, perhaps?” I could not disguise the slight shudder that took me.

  “I do not want an ordinary husband. It is more glorious to belong to the Living God!”

  My mother had returned and was quietly setting out the wine cups and a platter of her best sweetmeats. Several times she had drawn breath to break into my conversation with my father but thought better of it. Her dark eyes darted between us. I could see that she was bursting with comments but she sat down beside me and drank in a silence that must have been very difficult for her to maintain.

  There was little more to say. The wine was strong and bitter and I drank it gladly. We spoke desultorily of this and that and my mother became animated as she described the latest antics of the long-suffering mayor’s saucy daughters, but a constraint grew among the three of us. I tried to answer their few questions about my life with Hui but found
myself unable to do so in language that did not emphasize the wide gulf that existed between his world and theirs, and they surely sensed that the village gossip did not interest me any more. Blood and family affection bound us, but little more. In the achingly uncomfortable silences we drank our wine and nibbled at the cakes my mother had so painstakingly prepared, and at length my father rose, indicating that I should rise also. “I will receive the Seer now,” he said. “You can wait outside, Thu.” His smile took the bite out of his command and I obeyed, walking into the deepening flush of the sunset. Father spoke to a guard, who went to the litter. The curtains twitched and Hui emerged, imprisoned in his linens. We looked at each other. Then with a nod for Ani to accompany him he approached my father who was once more standing in his doorway.

  I wandered in the direction of the river, taking the way I had so often fled as a child. The villagers were still grouped in the square, staring at me like mindless sheep. I was unaccountably weary with the strain of this homecoming that was not a homecoming at all. Dimly I was aware of the guard who had fallen in behind me. My sandals had become clogged with grit and I stooped to remove them, and when I straightened Pa-ari was there. He was panting and his kilt had been tucked up around his hips.

  “I ran from the temple,” he explained, releasing his linen as he fell into step beside me and took my sandals from my hand. “There was some dictation that could not wait. I am sorry. What did Father say? Will he sign the contract? Where were you going?”