I spent some time that evening going over my daily routine mulling over the things Huya and I had done together, before realizing that she used to speak quite often to a girl down at the river, whenever I went down to bathe or it was our turn to do the washing.
The following morning I set off to the river with my companion assigned to me by the primary wife, in search of the girl. At first, I could not find her, but just as we were about to leave I noticed her arrive with another. I approached them and introduced myself, then asked if I could speak alone with her for a moment. She agreed and I asked about Huya. She informed me that Huya worked on one of the farmer’s lands closer to the islands, not far from her home. I thanked her and returned home to inform my husband.
He ordered Wetka to ready the dray-chariot for me.”
“A dray-chariot?” Shabaka asked confused.
“Yes”, Aya nodded, “It is not as big as a dray. My husband had is specially designed to make moving smaller loads of goods easier within the city. There is a platform much like that of a chariot, only it is longer and closed at the back, with four wheels. The one side panel is lower and allows you to climb in. Unlike the drays where the handler walks next to the beast, this one you steer as you would a chariot.”
“And you use oxen to pull it?” Shabaka asked, intrigued.
“No, we have a colt my husband bartered from the medjay. He is large and strong, which is why the medjay had picked him, but he is not fast enough for the chariots. He is as well trained as any of the medjay’s horses, and makes taking and collecting goods within Syène so much easier. I have always enjoyed riding in the dray-chariot; I can simply enjoy watching others. Now where was I, oh yes, the farmer. Wetka took me to the farmlands that afternoon, where after some searching I found her.
“Huya I need to speak with you”, I said, although I cannot say she was pleased to see me, but then again I could not blame her, her change in circumstance was in part owed to my failure to say something.
“I have nothing to say to you”, she coldly replied.
Her words irked me, because all the time we had spent together she had never addressed me in such a way.
“Please, I need to speak to you.”
“Has your husband left?”, she asked outright.
“No he has not, and we received word yesterday of a raid on the caravan.”
“There is nothing I can do”, she flatly replied.
“Please, my husband wishes to speak to you, he wants to thank you and the person who told you.”
“There is no need.” Huya replied, “He would not approve.”
“You may not want to believe that we are grateful, but we are. Please allow us to talk.”
She hesitantly looked at me before she said, “Menwi does not like people, he does not like to share his gift, but there are times when the message is more important than his desires.”
I had no response to her words, because there was little I could say, I did not want to impose, yet my husband wanted to speak to him, so I simply looked at her.
She shifted and eventually said, “I will talk to him this evening.” Then she lowered her head, “I know your husband well enough to know that he will not rest until he has gotten what he wants.”
I was shocked at her words, because I had never heard her address my husband like this, but willingly agreed to meeting them that evening.
That evening, my husband and I traveled to her house and what we found shocked me. There were several children running about in the street playing and stick fighting; and at first it appeared to be the same as every other street in Syène. It was only once I started to really look at the children that I realized that some of were maturing into young men and women and had hardly enough cloth on their bodies to call clothes. Several of the children followed our chariot-dray and wanted to look inside. It was only when one of the mothers reprimanded them that they scurried away. Even though Huya had mentioned to me that many families here were short of food, to actually see it, to drive down a road where the scent of bread baking should have filled the air, yet there was nothing, was unnerving.
When we arrived at her house, there were several people milling about outside. The oldest woman, who I took to be her mother, only glared at us when Huya stepped outside to address us. Her disdain towards us was obvious enough, although it did not seem to affect my husband, who calmly greeted Huya.
“He has agreed to meet with you”, Huya said and hesitantly looked towards her house, biting her lip before she continued, “He is in the back room.”
I have heard of several families living together within a home, but I have never borne witness to such living conditions. Even as a child it was only my parents and my sibling within our house, but entering her house was a shocking experience in itself. Within moments of passing the ragged drapery that covered the door I realized that even the small chamber that had been Huya’s accommodation while she had been with us must have been larger than the space she was given within that house.
Huya led us to the back of the house and held up her hand to make us stop. She slipped behind the fabric that hung in the doorway and spoke in hushed tones to the person in the other room, but we heard no reply.
Several moments later, she returned and gestured for us to enter, while holding the fabric aside. The room was barely twelve cubits long and lit by a small oil lamp off to the side. I will never forget the first time I laid eyes on him. I had expected him to have the appearance of one of those priests we see in the temples, one of those who speak to the Gods and practice soothsaying, or at least a man of more stature. But the sight of him shocked me. I do not know what my husband thought, but it seemed rather strange to me that this man could see things yet to happen, or that anyone would entrust him with any news of planned attacks on caravans. He was gaunt, and I am certain that if one was to look under his shawl one would see his ribs. There were no bones or ceremonial drab about the room, nothing to indicate he did anything other than sleep there. His face was filled with lines and his hands covered with welts. It was only later that I discovered that he was a laborer in the stone quarry, although he did not even look fit enough to pick up a hammer. He looked at us with his weary eyes, his head hardly seemed to move as his gaze shifted between my husband and I. Yet his gaze disturbed me, it felt as if he was seeing more than he should.
“Huya said you wished to speak with me”, he said. His voice was hoarse and sounded tired and unused.
My husband moved forward and replied, “Yes, I have come to thank you for your warnings, and having spared my life.”
Menwi made a gesture with his hand as if to indicate that it was of little importance, before he spoke, “But that is not why you came. You could have sent word with Huya and it would have sufficed, you came because you wanted to see for yourself, wanted to know what a person who is cursed with foresight looks like. For trust me it is a curse.”
His words stunned me, because I could not understand his hostility. He then shifted his gaze to me as he spoke, “You do not believe in such things, and you have come to appease yourself that it cannot be so, that I cannot see things that are about to happen, that it is all a matter of chance, but I tell you it is not. The Gods have a plan for each of us; our paths are carved the moment we emerge. There is little that can be altered, but there are events we can avoid.” He then turned to my husband as he continued, “But your presence here is not as simple, you have escaped death twice and think that it is of some manipulation by my hand, or that Huya may have spoken out of turn. I can assure you – this is not the case, but in order to convince you, you would expect of me to prove it; to tell you something else, but I refuse to be subjected to something like that. Many a time I have received simple requests from those wanting to know whether it is a good time to plant, or if the river will rise enough this season to result in a good crop. Women have come to me to ask if their baby will be a boy or a girl. Such things I do not mind, but to purposely look to seek answers is inviting
darkness into one’s life.”
“How then am I to believe that those warnings came from your mouth?”, my husband replied turning to look around the room, but there was only little there. “If you truly have the gift you claim, your family should not be subject to such conditions. Pharaohs would turn to you for guidance to ask you what their fate will be; viziers would turn to you, you could even become one yourself, and I do not understand why you would subject yourself to such living conditions if you were truly able to see what is yet to occur.” My husband then shocked me by picking up one of the stone statues on a nearby table, turning it over and placing it back, “Yet you surround yourself with small stone artifacts that are not worth a hepar in comparison to your talent.”
“There is no fortune to be gained from looking into the future, for interfering with the plans of the gods.”
“And that I suppose is the answer you give anyone who comes here in search of answers you cannot give them.” My husband challenged him.
“I had another man like you approach me once. He wanted me to tell him what was in a crate he had placed outside the door”, the man tiredly replied, “I could have told him that it was a small urn of olive oil, but I instead chose to tell him it was a wine skin. He was pleased that I got it wrong, pleased that he could show me the small urn of olive oil. But you will not be as easily appeased, you want more from me and even if I give you what you want you will not be appeased.”
“And what is it you think I want?”
“You seek the person responsible for planning your death, you want to know who betrayed you, who informed those people of the goods you move for the pharaoh.”
“And you can tell me who this is?”
“No, I cannot, because it is not one person but several, but only one is close to you.”
“Would you just for once say something of meaning? I have many people close to me, many who work for me; I cannot hold them all responsible”, my husband demanded. I was surprised, because never before had I heard him speak in such a tone.
“I will tell you this much”, Menwi started, “That tomorrow one of those responsible will visit your home expecting payment for his services, although your attention will be more focused on the arrival of your guests.”
My husband seemed dumfounded at his words, and I could understand, because I had no knowledge that we were to receive visitors and could not imagine that someone who had planned my husband’s murder would even dare to set foot in our home.
I grasped my husband’s arm, having had enough of the man’s presence. I found his manners deeply disturbing, as well as his words, because if I were to believe him, whoever had planned his murder would possibly continue to do so until they succeeded.
My husband obliged me and we left the man’s house. It was only when we turned onto the main road through Syène that he said. “I would not concern myself with his words, he is not what he claims to be.”
“Are you certain?” I asked, turning to look at him.
“For a man who sees the future, he could not see several minutes into it.” My husband began, “because if he could, he would have seen the five gold debben I placed behind the statue I lifted.”
“You left him five gold debben?”
“It is not much; he has prevented hundreds of debben from falling into the hands of robbers and saved my life. It is a small reward.”
“But it is more than many make in four seasons.”
“They needed it.”
“What of his words, about the person being close to you?” I hesitantly asked, thinking of any of the servants that might have any ill feeling towards my husband, but could not think of any.
“It is to make me doubt my people, and I will not. Many of them have fought alongside me in the deserts in the past. I do not believe any of them would want to harm me.”
7
Chapter Seven
“My husband’s words had been comforting and I slept better that night. I also did not think much of the man’s words when I began with my morning chores. Matters seemed to proceed as they used to in our house and everyone went about their chores as they usually did.
That was until Huya arrived not long after we started baking the flatbread for the first meal. I will be honest and say that I had not expected to see her. Once the servant that had summoned me left us, she reached under her caftan, extracted a small pouch and extended it towards me. “Menwi does not want this”, she stated flatly.
I looked at the pouch she reluctantly held out towards me, knowing that to her it was a great fortune. I had seen how much her family needed it and knew that she was returning it out of obligation. The fear in her eyes, possibly of what would happen if she did not was obvious to see, long before the hand that held the pouch started to tremble.
“Why not just keep it? Your family needs it.” I asked. I did not want to take it from her.
“He would know…” Huya wearily stated, “…he always knows.” She swallowed visibly as she twisted her wrist, causing the coins within the small pouch to clank together. A move I took as indication that I should take the money from her, that it seemed a burden to her.
I reached out and took it from her, my own hand not as steady as I would have liked it, and was surprised by the sudden change in her posture, the audible breath of relief that caused her shoulders to drop a little, as if a great burden had been lifted from her. Although her hesitant words of warning were contrary to that, “Stay away, only ill befalls those who seek to know the future. Nothing good ever comes from it.” Her voice grew stronger but at the same time she sounded almost like she was pleading as she continued, “You must make your husband understand that, you must keep him away, it curses those who want to know, and no sorcerer’s chants or spells can protect them from it.” Then without giving me the opportunity to respond, she turned and ran from me.
At first I thought it was strange, but then I turned and saw Nikare standing a short distance behind me, her expression fixed in a firm glare, which I knew frightened anyone who thought they may have done something that displeases her.
“You would do better not to listen to her ramblings.” Nikare firmly and condescendingly said.
I do not know how much of our exchange she had witnessed, but I got the impression that it was only the last part; she would have demanded that I hand her the money, had she known of it.
The whole morning there had been no good moment for me to discuss it with my husband as he was engaged in making arrangements to transport the goods he had removed from the previous caravan.
I became concerned when my husband returned at midday, because with him was a familiar group of traders he had not entertained in some time. I knew that it was not a planned event, as my husband would have been in the desert, had he left with the caravan; thus, there was no way that these men could have known he was home.”
“You know all of your husband’s trade contacts?” Shabaka asked.
Aya shook her head in response.
“So why were these different?” Shabaka asked.
Aya looked down as she continued, “There is a young trader amongst them, whom Dagi has always teased me about, saying that he only ever came to catch a glimpse of me, that he desires me for his wife.”
“And he was not upset?” Neti asked.
Aya again shook her head before replying, “He does pay me some attention, but I am happy with my husband, he takes good care of me. But Nikare has also noticed the young man’s interest, and not being one to let an opportune moment go, or to remind someone of their position within the house, often gave me the most humbling of chores. On this particular occasion, she had me wash and anoint the guests’ feet.
I was well aware that the man was attracted to me but having to touch him, even his feet, was utmost uncomfortable.
Afterwards Menwi’s words started floating around in my head again, and I became nervous and fidgety. Nikare yelled at me, several times, seeming as irritable as I was, although hers probab
ly came from suddenly having to prepare a meal for three more men. You see, Nikare never liked any sudden changes to the amount of food she had to prepare. It is easy enough to add a few more breads to the meal and open another wineskin, although she did not seem to think so. She always kept a strict eye on how much food was used, and how much was spent. She never liked feeding others, although my husband was quite willing to invite his friends to eat. At the time, I did not know how much my husband allowed to be spent for the household and I never questioned her judgment since everyone received enough food and she also paid the wages.
After finishing with the guests’ feet, I went outside to empty out the water. That was when I saw him approach the house. He was large, much taller than I and had scars on his face, neck and shoulders. He looked like one of those men who fought in the pharaoh’s regiments. At first, I thought he had come to see my husband, but he instead went to the back, where people who bring goods for the house or require payment go. That confused me, because there would be no reason for someone of his stature to approach that part of the house.
With Nikare seeing to my husband’s guests, it was my duty as the second wife to see to such matters, so I approached the man. I remember him having a large scar across his right cheek, because I kept on staring at it as I asked him if I could help him.
“I have business with the primary wife”, was his response.
“She is currently seeing to our husband and his guests, I can let her know that you are here”, I instead offered.
He seemed surprised at my mention of our husband, and replied, “My business is with her and with no other.”
“Shall I tell her you are waiting?” I asked.
“No, I will call upon her later.” He flatly replied and then left.
I was used to such treatment as it comes with being the second wife, thus did not think much of it. But, he had not even left the garden when the realization struck me, and Menwi’s words once again rung in my ears. My stomach churned and I felt ill. I could not understand how a man, a simple stone carver, could know such matters. Part of me also wanted to reject what I had learned - that Nikare could be involved in something like that.
The Forgotten Papyrus (The Mummifier's Daughter Series Book 5) Page 6