by Anton Gill
‘And what of Tascherit?’ asked Kenna.
‘What of him?’ Ay seemed surprised.
Kenna spread his hands. ‘He may be unhappy. If he is unhappy, he becomes a risk.’
‘He will not be unhappy. This is an honour for him too. We will instruct him to divorce Ankhsi and pay him well to do so. We will even allow him to keep his own son.’
‘Who will arrange all that?’
Ay looked at him. ‘Huy. I will give you more instructions and my authorisation for him.’
‘Down there, they will not believe that Huy was not always in your service. That he was sent down there from the first with this purpose.’
‘The letters will clear him, and so can you. Not that it matters. We are simply carrying out the wishes of the gods, who implant ideas in our hearts so that we can be their agents. I want you to take the fastest falcon-ship available and travel at first light. You only just have time to stop Henka. If you fail in that, it will fall to you, not Huy, to bring my granddaughter back, and I cannot spare you for as long as that may take.’
Kenna lowered his eyes. ‘How will I find Henka?’
Ay looked at him. ‘Amun will guide you,’ he said.
‘The best course is for you to leave Meroe,’ said Huy to Ankhesenamun as soon as she was recovered enough to talk. She lay with her son in a heavily-guarded room in the centre of the Governor’s mansion.
‘I will not leave,’ she replied. Huy would have preferred her to have spoken in anger than with the quiet but completely resolute tone she used. She did not look at him, but into herself. he wondered what she was thinking.
The danger was real enough. Tascherit had punished the gaolers who had killed the would-be assassin by transferring them to an outer garrison; but it had occurred to Huy – though he had shared his thought with no one – that they might have acted less in heat than by following orders to destroy the man rather than risk having him betray his motives or his masters under torture. For himself, Huy regretted not having been able to question him, but there seemed no possible cause which would benefit by Ankhsi’s death- unless Horemheb had indeed learned of Imuthes’ true identity. But in such a case surely Ay’s agents and informants would be sending reports of changes in Horemheb’s movements in the north. None had come while Huy was still in the Southern Capital, at the time of the first two attempts, which Huy was now convinced must be linked to this one.
‘You must go. We will find a place of safety for you – perhaps by the Eastern Sea.’ Tascherit could barely conceal the anger in his voice. ‘You must go.’
‘I will not.’
‘If not for your sake, for the sake of Imuthes.’
‘Neither of us will leave. Or do you have some other use for my guard?’
‘You cannot live under guard forever.’
‘That would be preferable to exile in the wilderness. The people who want my life must themselves be caught and killed. I will not run away from them.’
Tascherit turned away, furious. ‘You seek your own death.’
She pointed at Huy. ‘Standing before you is the means of my escape. He will find out who is behind this. Or is that something you fear?’
They exchanged a look so wild that for a breath’s time Huy thought that the Governor would throw himself onto her. She drew her knees up to herself on the bed and looked up at her husband ready to hiss and claw like a cat. Next to her in a crib rocked by an attendant who squatted by it with lowered eyes, Imuthes slept deeply. His wound had indeed been hastily inflicted and was slight, but he had lost more blood than Senseneb had thought and he was too tired to be awakened by the discord near him.
‘You must remain calm,’ he said. Looking at Tascherit, he added. ‘This will do no good.’
‘She still thinks she is a queen,’ snarled Tascherit. ‘But she is the princess of nothing!’
‘Perhaps if you would think about it. Consider – ’ Huy said to Ankhsi.
‘There is nothing to consider!’
‘If you don’t go willingly we will force you!’ shouted Tascherit.
‘How?’
‘We will find a way.’ Tascherit turned on his heel and made for the door.
‘Where are you going? To ask your sister?’ Her voice was full of scorn, though Huy thought he noticed something else there too – pain. Tascherit barely broke his stride, and did not turn back.
Huy lowered his eyes. He did not know whether to go or stay, but he could do nothing until he was ordered to. There was a long silence during which nothing could be heard but the breathing of the child, interrupted by its burbling and sighs. Huy wanted to look at Ankhsi’s face but dared not. He was sure she was not fighting back tears but summoning strength. The atmosphere in the room was so dense it was like being in water, or being wrapped in linen.
When she spoke her voice came from far away.
‘Huy.’
‘Yes?’
‘There are things I have not told you.’
He looked up then but she was not looking at him. She was looking at the child. Huy could sense that through him she was looking at the ka of her dead husband.
‘Do you know what happens when those who live after neglect the ka of a Departed One?’ She had been reading his thoughts.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘If they do not feed it and give it drink it will wander about and look for food anywhere,’ she continued, obliviously. ‘It will take anything it can find. It will eat offal and drink the stinking puddles in alleyways or the urine of oxen, and if it goes on like that it will die the Second Death, and it will cease to be, either here or in the Fields of Aarru.’ She turned to look at him. ‘It will cease to be – all utterly.’
‘Yes.’
Now she looked at him. ‘Have I done that to my husband? Not this man Tascherit, but my husband in Truth: Tutankhamun?’
Huy was appalled. ‘No! He was sent to his rest with a thousand shawabti to serve him. Ay himself opened his mouth at the gate of the tomb. The stone food and the painted drink will refresh him forever, but he was a king, and the priests of the Great Place take him white bread and wine every morning and every evening.’
‘Some would say I had buried his son alive.’
‘To have revealed him would have been indeed to kill him.’
‘I still do not believe my grandfather would have – ’
‘As long as he sees Imuthes as a threat and not an heir...’
She looked at him with shining eyes. ‘He is not Imuthes but Amenophis! And he is a threat!’
Huy glanced round at the attendants in the room. They were like statues. Ankhsi had spoken passionately but in a whisper and so the only one likely to have heard her was the girl rocking the cradle. Her face was impassive, half-hidden by her wig.
‘These are all my people,’ said Ankhsi, catching his look. ‘I have not become careless since I came to the provinces.’
‘How is he a threat?’ asked Huy carefully, after a moment’s silence during which he marshalled his thoughts.
She looked at him. Was she regretting her outburst? If so, she evidently thought that it was too late to retreat now.
‘Can I trust you, Huy?’
He lowered his eyes. She would not be alive had it not been for him. he tried to send the thought to her.
‘I know you saved me, but people change. You did not work for Ay then.’
‘I do not, now.’
‘It seems odd, though, to give up such a post to come down here.’ She raised herself to a sitting position on the bed. ‘And it seems strange that you of all people should arrive with such vague ideas of what to do with yourself.’
‘You have given me something to do and paid me for it.’
She smiled. ‘Your old job. The one you hated so much when you had to do it.’
‘I do not do it from choice now. But I do it willingly for you.’ Huy reflected that he had done little or nothing yet. But matters had to unfold before they could be tackled.
‘
How is Imuthes a threat?’ he asked again, deliberately not using the boy’s imperial name. The baby had woken, and looked up at him with the solemn, impenetrable black eyes of his father.
‘There is a gathering here,’ began Ankhsi. ‘One that believes still in the New Thinking of my father.’
Huy looked at the fine features. Only the slightly elongated head betrayed the fact that Ankhsi was one of the daughters of Akhenaten, the pharaoh who had swept all holy things away and replaced them with the Aten, the power of the sun’s light. The man who had brought the Black Land to the brink of destruction, and whose name had been blotted out.
‘The time for the Aten is come again,’ continued Ankhsi, her eyes alight. ‘Here and in Napata. Our power is growing.’
‘Be careful of what you are saying,’ said Huy. The servants remained as impassive as ever. The nurse took the silent baby out of the crib and away to a nearby table, where she cleaned him and dressed him in fresh byssus before settling down in a low chair to feed him.
‘When I came here I could see that the temples to the Aten were kept swept and I soon learnt that they were in use. By then I had married Tascherit in Napata and after his appointment as Military Governor here I began to ask questions – quietly. Tascherit was uninterested, but he did not stand in my way. From early on he let me go my way and I let him go his. It has been a marriage whose buds withered on the stem, but it has been useful.’
‘Why did you marry?’
‘To protect Amenophis, of course. And for Tascherit – well, I think he saw some hope of gain. Certainly if Amenophis ascends to the Golden Chair he will not be the loser by it, though I hope never to see him again.’
‘But do you trust him?’
Ankhsi smiled crookedly. ‘No. But he is a man with other preoccupations than spying for Ay.’
‘And what are they?’
She smiled. ‘Huy, you have never learnt patience. You must let me say out my piece.’
She had grown up since he had last seen her; but there was no wonder in that.
‘It was Samut who first helped me,’ she continued. ‘He saw that we could rally enough support here to march on the Southern Capital while the main army is away fighting in the north. The local tribespeople do not like the yoke of the Black Land. They would be glad to see a pharaoh on the Golden Chair who would treat with them and give them back their cities.’
Huy lowered his eyes. What madness was this?
‘What of the garrisons here?’
‘Most of the troops are native.’
‘Surely it is not that simple.’
‘Of course, we need more time yet, but with the help of a man like you...’
‘Me?’
‘Yes. You worked for my father. It was the return of the old order that swept your life away. Do you not want revenge for that? Do you not agree that the Aten is the true god?’
Huy no longer knew. He did not want to see his country destroyed either, though he could hardly believe that Ankhsi seriously thought her rebellion would work. It would take half a season to march an army to the Southern Capital, and the falcon-ships could have carried the news north in half that time. That was quite apart from the question of how the Black Landers themselves would welcome such a change. Many had loathed the Aten, and had lived in a darkness of fear when their comforting old gods had been taken from them. The great mass of the people had simply gone on as before. The changing leaders never affected the body of the state: it continued to function as it always had, just as the River flowed, and as it always would.
And what of Tascherit? How could he possibly be privy to such a thing? He did not strike Huy as the kind of commander whose strength of character would evoke a personal loyalty from his men, and even if that were so, what could a collection of tribal armies and his half-empty garrison at Meroe do against even the regional brigades stationed at Napata? But Ankhsi had mentioned Napata, and Samut was there now. Was the Viceroy also involved?
‘We must still be patient. But with your help we could move ahead so much faster,’ said Ankhsi.
‘I do not know,’ he replied. ‘It seems to me that in all you have told me you have forgotten that someone here is trying to kill you and your son. Surely my best role is to find out who.’
‘There is a traitor here,’ she said, her face hardening. ‘And he must serve Horemheb. But I do not believe they know of our conspiracy. We are rich here, and all of the northern spies have been bought. I think Horemheb has sent someone to kill us so that his own son has no rival.’
‘But that would mean that Horemheb knew Imuthes’ true identity.’
She shrugged. ‘It would not be necessary. He is the son of a queen. Horemheb would simply be trying to cover every possible threat, especially as he is away and his wife and son are alone in the Southern Capital.’ She climbed down from the bed and stood up, unsteadily at first, supporting herself on one of the golden bull-head finials that decorated the bedhead.
‘The important thing is that we are still alive. Tascherit will provide us with a guard, he has no choice, he must. But you – you will watch over us until it is time to depart.’ She came a step closer. ‘You will be rewarded, Huy. You will be given more than you dream of if we succeed.’
Huy lowered his eyes. ‘I will do my best to help you,’ he said. But his heart was alive with questions.
Chapter Seven
Huy had to do something that was important to his own life. Perhaps it was as a result of the circumstances piling up around him that he sought stability. Perhaps he had had enough of not finding the right path in his heart. Perhaps he was concerned to return some of the trust to Senseneb that she had given him, and thereby to set a fixed point in his life.
He had delayed so much that he was not sure if she would be ready for a sudden declaration, and his heart would not let go of a lingering doubt; but he had begun to believe that he was the kind of person who would never be able to do anything without some reservation. Was it getting older that brought this lessening of certainty? Or was it the thread of his life, spinning out erratically however hard he tried to find a true centre? There were times when he cursed the New Thinking, that had led him to the recognition of his own individuality. How much more fortunate were those who had no such notions.
He found her in the garden, which in a short time she had managed to transform into something approaching a replica of the garden of her father’s house in which he had first seen her, though here she used the plants and flowers of the far south, enlisting Psaro’s aid, to create something that was identifiably her own. Hapu greeted him with his usual reserve, which Huy had for long interpreted correctly as triggered by the scribe’s procrastination in making the marriage vow. Huy wondered wrily whether now that attitude would change.
He embraced her warmly and knew she could sense that something had changed. But he did not open the subject of their love at first. He had to tell her what he had learned from Ankhsi and find out what she thought about it. He started hesitantly, but as the words began to flow, he found he was telling her everything in detail and at length. He was not used to sharing what his heart contained in these matters and now he found it a pleasant sensation to do so, though Senseneb met his news with reserve. He had not asked her whether in the short time that she had been Ankhsi’s physician she had learned anything which he had been unable to perceive. Had Ankhsi said anything to her while Senseneb had tended her wound, and that of little Imuthes?
‘There is something behind what she is doing,’ she said.
‘Something has certainly blinded her.’
‘We don’t know that.’
‘But she has not spoken to you?’
Senseneb looked at him. ‘Not of this, no, not at all.’
‘How can they possibly have enough strength?’
‘I think it depends upon Samut.’
Huy considered her words. Samut had certainly not been worried about the rival influence of Nesptah with the Viceroy in Napata, added to wh
ich had been the confident boastfulness of his factotum. Had the merchant more power than he pretended? Huy had no idea of the size or unity of the tribal forces of which Ankhsi had spoken.
‘I will talk to Samut when he returns.’
‘Then it is well that you have accepted Ankhsi’s request.’
Huy was not so sure. He had no desire to associate with any palace revolution, still less one whose chances of success he made himself believe were doomed before it started. But whatever was planned was planned to take place soon. A properly coordinated campaign which combined the forces of Meroe and Napata might be enough to reach the Southern Capital and take it before the north could respond. Ay’s family might be spared; Horemheb’s would not. But sooner or later Horemheb’s armies would descend again. The Black Land had been united since Narmer bound them together one thousand and seven hundred floods ago. It was unthinkable that it should be divided again. And if it were, its enemies would rejoice, and it would fall. Was there any way he could persuade Ankhsi of that, and get her to relent? Should he somehow betray her plans to Ay? He would have to dig deeper first, and he would have to be patient. He thought of the saying, Patience is an egg that hatches great birds. It was difficult to be patient.
He walked away from her to the end of the garden and paused in the shade of the wall, where a tall tamarisk tree bowed over it. The sun cast long shadows and the noises of the town were becoming more desultory as the day faded. How beautiful it was here. But the very calm, and the beauty and comfort of his surroundings, mocked him. Then he turned back to look at the house and his mind cleared. That was how it was and how it would always be: there would always be the turmoil under the surface, and the only way to live was to accept it.
He returned to where Senseneb was trying, with little success, to instil obedience into one of the puppies. It would sit for a breath’s space, but then bounce up and dance around her while its sibling – a more placid animal – lay and panted in a dappled patch of sunlight. Hapu stood a short distance away and supervised the laying of the dinner table on the terrace. As a freedman, he could witness the exchange of words if he wished. Huy knew that he regarded himself as Senseneb’s guardian and such a role would please him. If Huy had not left it all too late.
