I succumbed to the need for more poppy that night, but the amount I drank did not produce full unconsciousness and I wandered in a twilight world of half-sleep where Pharaoh and I laughed and talked in his bedchamber, loving and carefree. But the colour and animation of that fantasy drained away, leaving me sitting bolt upright and wide awake in the hour when night’s dark hand has a choking hold on man and beast alike and even sounds are muffled. With heart thumping I strained into the dimness. Something had woken me, some shapeless threat of evil that lurked within the shadows. I tried to call out to Disenk but my voice would not obey.
As the moments passed the presentiment of horror grew, but nothing sprang at me from the invisible corners of my cell and slowly I began to realize that the source of the menace was inside me, that it had crept from me across the courtyard, along the path and into the palace where even now Hentmira’s innocent hands were smeared with death.
Reaching out, I lifted the statue of Wepwawet, and cradling him against my breast I rocked to and fro, whispering incoherent prayers to him, to my father, to Hui my Master, until the first faint hint of dawn began to thin the darkness around me and I was able to slip into a brief, troubled sleep.
The morning brought no lessening of the vise which I had created. I struggled in its relentless grip. Woodenly I allowed Disenk to swathe me in linen and precede me to the bath house, and for the first time the gentle flow of the scented water against my skin was not soothing. It seemed to intensify my inner agitation, and the hands of the young man who had massaged me almost every day since I had entered the harem made me bite back a scream. Other women passed in and out of the bathing quarter in various stages of undress, wafting a dozen different perfumes on the humid air and commenting desultorily to one another in their soft, high voices. Their presence, their feminine, sensuous movements, was stifling, and with an incoherent word I left them, trying to walk casually back to my cell though every nerve in my body demanded that I flee.
Disenk began to paint my face and I clenched my fists as her expert fingers went to work. I was able to contain myself until the brush laden with red ochre swept over my lips, but suddenly I found my mouth full of the metallic taste of blood and with a curse I groped for a piece of linen and scrubbed the offensive colour away. My servant made no remark and I did not explain my action.
I was able to eat sparingly and drink a little water, and by the time I was ready to hold Pentauru I felt calmer, but as I bent over his basket he looked up at me with an unblinking, reproachful stare. My arms went out to lift him but his face puckered and he began to howl. I withdrew hastily, angrily. “I cannot bear his crying, not now!” I blurted to Disenk. “Take him to his wet-nurse for a while. And then go into our old courtyard. Try to find out what is happening, if anything, before I decide to take to my couch and drown myself in the oblivion of the wine jar. Hurry up!”
She was gone for some time, and long before she returned I slowly became aware that the mood of the quarter had changed. The low background susurration of voices that accompanied every activity in the building had ceased. The women who usually arranged themselves comfortably on the grass for a morning of dallying with their children and sharing conversation had fallen silent, and when the new quiet had penetrated my self-absorption and I looked out my door, I saw them ushering their charges away while their servants dismantled the canopies and picked up the cushions and board games and toys. None of them looked happy. An atmosphere of ominous expectancy had pervaded the precinct but I did not dare to go and ask why.
The courtyard emptied but the doors of the cells remained open. From my vantage point I could see the shapes of the inmates hovering just beyond the lintels. A word of doom had spread and I believed that I knew what it was. Shaking in every limb I withdrew to my chair, sat down with exaggerated care, and waited. And as the moments went by a curious composure fell over me. My body ceased to tremble. My mind stopped its frenetic racing and came under my control once more. I could think coherently and coolly. At this, the climax of suspense, I was sane again, and it was Disenk who betrayed distress as she hurried into my presence, panting and agitated.
“Hentmira is very ill,” she said without preamble. “I did not dare to go inside her cell for fear of drawing attention to myself and thus to you, but there is much coming and going of servants and priests. The Lady Hunro saw me and drew me aside briefly.”
“Priests?” I exclaimed. “Who is attending her?”
“The palace physician. He has called in the priests to contend with the demons of sickness. The Lady Hunro thinks that she is dying, Thu.” I could feel nothing at her words. I was encased in an armour of stone.
“What are her symptoms?”
“A rash has broken out all over her body. She vomits continually and her limbs convulse. I could hear her crying most piteously as I stood with others outside the cell.” I did not want to think of that.
“And what of Pharaoh?” I almost whispered. “If the palace physician is attending Hentmira, does this mean that Ramses is already dead?”
“No.” Disenk shook her head. With a gesture I gave her permission to sit and she sank onto the stool beside my couch and laced her fingers together tightly. “The rumour is that the Master has been summoned to treat him. They say he is not as ill as his concubine. That is why he released the palace physician to care for Hentmira.” Our eyes met. “Will he recover, Thu?”
“I do not know.” Panic was struggling to break through the defence that encircled me but I refused it entry. “I will not know for several hours. Did Hui answer the summons?”
“The Lady Hunro could not tell me.”
“And what of the jar of oil?”
“Hentmira did not bring it back to the cell with her. The Lady Hunro said that Hentmira returned from the palace in the early hours of this morning and went straight to bed. But she began to fret and moan an hour later and by dawn the Lady Hunro was sufficiently alarmed to send for Amunnakht. The Keeper summoned the harem physician who sent for permission to consult with the palace physician. At that time Pharaoh was sleeping and so the palace physician came to examine Hentmira. He is still there.”
Silence fell between us, but it was loud and uneasy with our unspoken thoughts. At last I rose.
“Go to Hunro’s cell,” I ordered Disenk. “Offer my services to the palace physician. Everyone knows that I was the Master’s apprentice and have treated many of the harem women. It would be strange if I ignored Hentmira’s plight. While you are there, try to discover Pharaoh’s symptoms, and whether Hui has come or not.” She looked uncomfortable for a moment but left the stool, sketched a bow, and went out.
I poured myself wine, and going to my doorway I leaned against the jamb and sipped the rich red liquid with deliberate attention to its taste. The jar had not come back to the cell with Hentmira. I would have to presume that Paibekamun, having been alerted to the plot, had retrieved it once she had left and I could only hope that he had discarded what remained of the contents and smashed it. I did not like having to trust that he had done this. It gave me a tremor of apprehension. Nor did I like the fact that from what I had heard, Hentmira’s plight was the more desperate. Perhaps the poison was taking longer to travel through the metu of Pharaoh’s larger body. All I could do was wait.
When Disenk returned it was with disturbing news. “The palace physician has gone to attend Pharaoh,” she told me quickly, “but he has left his assistant with Hentmira and he thanks you for your offer. You are to go to the girl at once.” She hesitated and dropped her gaze. “The Master cannot answer the royal summons, Thu. Harshira sent word that he has gone to Abydos to consult with the priests of Osiris and to See for them. He goes there every year.” I was mystified.
“But he did not tell me that he was going away,” I said. “When did he leave?”
“Apparently he has been gone for a week and is due back in Pi-Ramses the day after tomorrow, according to the message Harshira sent to the palace.”
�
��That is impossible! I was with him three days ago, in his garden! He gave me the poison then! You remember, Disenk?” She did not answer but I saw her lick her lips nervously. “It is a lie,” I went on slowly. “Harshira is lying. I have no doubt that Hui has gone to Abydos but he did not leave a week ago, he left immediately after I saw him that evening. He is protecting himself in case something goes wrong. How did he intend to protect me, Disenk, if something did go wrong? How could he come to my aid if he was in Abydos?”
The answer, of course, was that he would not come to my aid. He might love me, he might desire me, but he spoke the truth when he said that he and I were cast from the same mould. Self-preservation came first. Still, I was hurt and angry. Hui remained the Master. He was more devious than I. I could prove that you were in your house three days ago, I thought mutinously. My sailors took me there. The palace guard waited for me by your entrance. I spoke to your porter and he let me pass.
But neither sailors nor guard saw you, my mind ran on, and all your servants, from lowly porter to imposing Steward, would naturally lie for you. Harshira has done so already. No one could prove that I did not go to your house and steal the poison, knowing you were away. The building is familiar to me, and so are the movements of all your servants. Curse you, Hui! You have outmanoeuvred me once again. Would you really throw me to the jackals if our plot was discovered?
My plot. I shivered, suddenly chilled, as Disenk made no response to my outburst but stood there with a question on her flawless face. It was my plot. I had poured my venom against Pharaoh into Hui’s ears. I had expressed a fervent desire to kill the King, and all Hui had said was “Then why don’t you?” I was the one who had paced in the dimness until the means presented themselves to me. My hand had mixed the arsenic into the oil, carried it to Hentmira, placed it in her own warm fingers, and arsenic was not a rare poison. It was easily obtainable everywhere. I swallowed and closed my eyes. “Get my medicine box,” I ordered Disenk. “I will go to Hentmira now.”
There was still a crowd outside the cell the doomed girl shared with Hunro but the women were keeping a silent vigil, sitting on the ground, some with their backs against the wall. The monotonous rise and fall of chanting came out to meet me as I threaded my way through them. The cell door was open. I gathered up my courage and went in. Hunro glanced up at me as my shadow fell across the threshold. She was perched cross-legged on her couch, outside the circle of concern around the other bed. I went over to her.
“What news of Pharaoh?” I asked under the cover of the priests’ loud singing.
“The physician’s assistant has been commanded to join his master at Pharaoh’s bedside as soon as you have taken charge here,” she told me. “Hui cannot come, as you must know by now. There is talk of rotten food. Pharaoh’s symptoms are the same as Hentmira’s and they shared a dish of candied figs last night. Or so it is said.”
“How ill is he?” She cast a sidelong glance at the group around Hentmira’s couch.
“I do not know.” I turned away then and joined the palace physician’s assistant, touching his shoulder gently. He made way for me, and I approached Hentmira.
She was close to death. Already she was deep in the coma that would lead her ultimately to the gates of the Judgement Hall, and as I bent over her I had a moment of inexpressible relief that I would not have to look into eyes brimming with anguish or hear her soft, hesitant voice distorted as she fought to take breath and speak. Her skin was cold and clammy under my hands, her parted lips blue, and I noticed as I surreptitiously inspected her palms that they and her forearms were angry with a thick, raised rash. Her eyes were only half-closed. They glittered dully. Her face was streaked with the tears of her torment. The sheets were foul with her bloody excretions. I stood back.
“There is nothing to be done,” the assistant said. “Thank the gods the convulsions are over. The Keeper has sent for her family, but what can we tell them? She will die before they arrive.”
“Were you able to give her anything?” I managed to ask. I wanted to fly at the priests who were filling the room with their choking incense and their senseless drone, but the words they sang were no longer for healing. They were for an easy separation of ka from body and Hentmira needed them.
“I tried to dose her with poppy but she could not keep it down,” he said. “If this was caused by rotten food then I must begin my apprenticeship all over again. It seems more like the work of a poison to me.” He began to put away his phials and instruments. “I must now attend Pharaoh, and I fervently hope that he has been spared the ravages that overtook this poor young woman. I leave her to you, my Lady.”
I hardly noticed him go. Pulling up a stool I sat beside Hentmira. I knew better than anyone that there was nothing left to do but wait for the inevitable. I ordered her linen to be changed and a bowl of warm water to be brought, and I forced myself to carefully wash the flaccid limbs, the thin trunk, even the ashen face of the girl who had prompted such jealousy in me. The action was a self-imposed penance, a gesture of guilt and sadness, but I did not know if it was an evidence of regret. I did not think so.
Laying my hand over her ribs I felt the irregular, faint flutterings of a heart that could not go on beating for much longer. Oh, Hentmira, forgive me, I pleaded mutely. Your heart struggles valiantly for life and it will lose, but at its weighing in the Judgement Hall, under the eyes of Anubis and Thoth, it will be victorious, whereas mine will accuse me when my time comes, and will the gods understand? Do you? And will you plead for me before the Divine Ones, out of your mercy and generosity of spirit? As though she had heard me, she sighed. Her breath hitched, hitched again, and I withdrew. My punishment is to watch you die, I thought. I could have sat by Ramses’ couch to view his death throes without a qualm, but you tear me to the quick.
Some time later I became vaguely aware that the light in the room had changed. The day was advancing. People entered the room, a short, grey-haired man, an older woman with such a disturbing likeness to Hentmira that it seemed as though the body on the couch was suddenly a mistake.
I spoke to them, watched them touch their daughter with distressed, uncertain hands, and heard their cries when at last, towards sunset, the last breath left Hentmira as modestly and quietly as the girl herself had been. Signalling to the priests to cease their chanting I rose stiffly from my stool and slipped away, sending a harem runner to tell the Keeper that the sem-priests must be summoned. I wondered, as I crossed the crushed grass and narrowed my tired eyes against the red onslaught of the sunset, whether a tomb for Hentmira had even been begun, and whether any funerary equipment lay stored for her. Probably not, for who would have thought that someone so young could die so soon?
As I turned out of the courtyard towards my own quarters I saw Hunro coming from the direction of the front gardens. She had been swimming. Her hair was plastered to her head and hung in wet ropes below her naked shoulders, and she had tied a piece of linen carelessly around her waist. “She’s dead,” I said without preamble as my friend came up to me. “I am sorry for that, Hunro.” Hunro made a face.
“I am sorry too,” she said. “Hentmira was a most agreeable room-mate.” Something in her manner, a coolness, a small distance, alerted me.
“You have word of Pharaoh,” I said.
“Yes.” She bent her head, and gathering up her thick hair she squeezed it vigorously. A trickle of water pattered into the dust of the path and formed a tiny puddle. “They are saying that he is vomiting and weak, and complaining of a bad headache, but there is no sign of convulsions and his condition does not worsen.” She would not look at me. “I think he will live.”
And who are you to be the judge of that? I wanted to shout at her. Are you a physician, Hunro? I have taken all the risks for you, for you and Hui and your brother and all the others! I have endangered myself, I have imperilled the fate of my soul, while you all sat back and watched! Even if I have failed I do not deserve the disdain I see in your averted face! “Perhaps he wi
ll,” I said coldly to the cheek and shell-like ear presented to my view, “and then again, perhaps he will not. We must wait and see.”
I was the first to walk away. I did so with squared shoulders and a brisk gait that hid the resentment and uncertainty I felt, and as I went it came to me that I could keep going. I could stride past the entrance to the Children’s Quarters, go through into the servants’ compound, and thus into the palace grounds. I could present myself at the door of the Keeper’s office. I could tell Amunnakht that the King and Hentmira had been poisoned, that Hui and Paiis, Banemus and Paibekamun and the rest of them had hatched a plot to murder Ramses and Hunro had agreed to make Hentmira the unwitting tool. They had approached me but I had refused. I had, of course, taken the oil and various other preparations to Hunro and Hentmira, but my action had been innocent. It was only now, with Hentmira dead and Pharaoh ailing, that I realized what had probably happened. As a physician, I recognized the symptoms. Hunro had obtained poison from the Seer. Hunro had put it in the massage oil. They were traitors, all of them, plotters against the God and against Egypt herself.
At the doorway to my own courtyard I paused. But what if Pharaoh died? Then we would all be safe. Then I would hold the Prince to his promise and I would be elevated to royal status. I would be free. It did not matter that Hui had taken steps to protect himself. I would have done the same thing. Better to wait just a little longer, and see what transpired. I turned towards my door.
Since Hui was not available to attend Pharaoh, I wondered if I would be summoned to add my ministrations to those of the palace physician. Ramses had been impressed with my healing skills and not once in all the time I shared his couch did he consult another doctor. In the week that followed I sent Disenk to Amunnakht, offering my services, because it would have seemed strange had I not done so and because I burned to know in what state the Lord of All Life lay, but my submission was politely declined and indeed I heard a few days after Hentmira’s death that the Master had returned and had gone immediately to examine the King and consult with his personal physician. He made no move to visit me and sent me no message. I began to be afraid.
House of Dreams Page 47
