“So this is where Perti ended up,” one of the twins observed, flinging himself down beside his brother. Huy tried to decide which one had spoken, but failed until the other chimed in.
“We thought he’d been disgraced.” This comment belonged to Suti. “One day he was drilling his favourite ten men on the practice ground and the next he and they were gone.” He turned to Huy. “We regularly liked to watch the various army divisions go through their paces when our own work was done. The Scribe of Recruits allowed us to stand with him on the dais. We competed with Perti at archery, too.”
“And he always beat us.” Hori held out his cup to Paroi, who had emerged from the darkness. “He recognizes us but won’t acknowledge us without your permission, Seer Amunhotep.”
“Then be good-mannered enough to stop talking about him as though he can’t hear you,” Kha put in testily. He had placed his cushion between the small of his back and the trunk of a tree. “Why must you both behave as though you are still children?”
“Because their work is difficult and requires their utmost concentration,” Huy said. All evening he had been quietly watching the silent, almost unconscious interplay between them. Their words were light, frivolous, but their thoughtful glances had missed no detail regarding the people around them, including himself. “They find relief in meaningless talk. Don’t be concerned on my account or Captain Perti’s, Kha. I have already taken their measure, as I’m sure Perti has. I’m ready to discuss the tasks the King has set us all.”
There was a moment of silence. The twins stared into their wine cups. Their father folded his long legs one over the other and smoothed his kilt across his thighs.
“All three of us will be returning to Weset,” he said. “It will be good to see my wife and daughters, but the duties assigned to us are heavy. The King intends to make the most ambitious changes to Amun’s temple at Ipet-isut that Egypt has ever seen.”
“I have already given orders that limestone from the mines at Tura must be routed south once the mines are repaired.” The voice was Suti’s. “I’ll be demolishing the late King’s sandstone court within the sacred precinct. It is not worthy of either Amun or our Pharaoh, who wants something there in white alabaster from Hatnub. I dislike designing for alabaster—it’s so friable. And the obelisk that’s been lying on its side unfinished for the last thirty-five years is a disgrace to the temple. It must be finished and erected.”
“We’re going to need Master of Works and Chief Sculptor Men, and his son Bek.” Hori drained his wine in one gulp and nonchalantly held his cup out to be refilled. “I’ve sent to Iunu, and both of them should be on their way to Weset by now. His Majesty has ordered me to draft a plan for a new Barque Shrine in Ipet-isut, and he has his royal eye on the southern Apt a mile or two south of Ipet-isut. I’ve seen the ruins of a small, unfinished limestone chapel there.”
“As your superior, I anticipate your designs, both of you. I assume that Men appointed his junior Masters of Works to see to the repairing and opening of the various mines.” Kha turned to Huy. “You are completely in the King’s confidence, therefore you are aware of his wish to build a new palace on the west bank directly opposite the temple of Ipet-isut.”
“I am aware of it, and I am horrified. The Regent has stated the reasons His Majesty gave, but they seem spurious to me. The dead will not be pleased.”
“Nevertheless, he has made up his mind. All three of us, Hori, Suti, and myself, will be designing it. It’s true that the existing palace will eventually become too cramped.” He sighed. “The design itself will take many months. In the meantime His Majesty will occupy the old palace. But before we begin our work at Weset we’ve been commanded to plan and erect a shrine to Nekhbet the vulture goddess at Nekheb, at the mouth of the desert valley where the eastern gold route begins. We must depict our King’s father Osiris Thothmes sitting with his son, and elsewhere the goddess herself with her protecting wings over Pharaoh.”
Why? Huy wondered immediately. Does Amunhotep feel that he needs the shield of the Lady of Flame because of his uncle? Has he always held Nekhbet in especial esteem? Did his father, and so by honouring the goddess with a new shrine, he is keeping his father’s spirit peaceful? In all the time I’ve known him, he’s never preferred one god over another, and indeed when he was a little boy he confessed to me that he found matters of religion boring. Well, I suppose that as long as he is keeping the Aten in its proper place I need not fret.
“I didn’t know that,” he said aloud.
The evening was over. Full night now permeated the garden, and lamps had begun to wink off within the palace. Kha rose to his feet and his sons scrambled up at once.
Suti yawned. “I was dozing. Thank you, Great Seer, for your hospitality. We shall be seeing much more of you as the King’s projects progress. We wish you safety on your journey.”
I suppose that every inhabitant of the palace knows that I am travelling with the Vizier, Huy thought, returning their bows and leading them back inside, where Amunmose waited to alert their escort. At least I don’t leave tomorrow. I need poppy, and a sound sleep.
Yey was entombed on the last day of Payni. The weather was slowly warming towards the stultifying heat of the harvest season, but the day of the funeral was mild, with a pleasant breeze. Huy, far back in the procession snaking slowly westward through the palm groves to the desert beyond, gave himself over to the delicate scents intermittently wafted to him. He had decided to attend the first day of the three-day rite out of respect for the man who had commanded such affection from the King and his mother, but he himself had not known Yey. The customary wails of the dozens of mourners in their blue sheaths trailing behind the coffin reminded him only that Yey’s family was wealthy enough to hire a small army of them. He reflected briefly on the power Yey and his survivors wielded. However, the sunlight was dazzling on the churned sand ahead, the white linen held over his head billowed gently in the moving airs, and with a mild pang of guilt that was immediately dissipated he gave himself over to the pleasure of the morning.
He and his entourage returned to the palace after sunset. The halls were unusually quiet. Every minister and nobleman had gone to accompany Yey on his last journey. Huy took the opportunity to dictate a letter to Thothhotep and Anhur, telling them that Nekheb would soon be full of workmen and introducing Kha and his sons, who had already left for Weset. Nekheb was not far south of Weset, on the east side of the river. Its twin town Nekhen sat on the western bank. He was tempted to dictate a formal request for a meeting with Yuya, but before he lay his vision of Tiye’s future before her father, there loomed the necessity of presenting it to the King. Better to wait, Huy thought as he stretched out on his mat under the shade in the deserted garden and gazed sleepily up through the thick leaves of the sycamore. Amunhotep will doubtless pout and protest. He will capitulate in the end, of course, but there’s no need to antagonize him by anticipating his surrender. I wonder if the Queen has already prepared him for the news?
ON THE FOURTH DAY, the palace began to fill again as the inhabitants came straggling back. Their mood was light, and Huy, listening to the loud chatter and frequent bursts of laughter, knew that their cheerfulness sprang from relief. Yey was dead, left behind in the darkness, but they had survived to pick up the commonplace threads of their everyday lives. No need to fret about Ma’at’s feather weighed against their hearts in the gloom of the Judgment Hall. Not yet.
As Huy emerged from his bedchamber on the fifth day, a message came from Vizier Ptahmose requesting that Huy be ready to leave Mennofer in two days, on the seventh of Epophi. Huy passed it on to Amunmose with instructions to pack his belongings. “You’ll accompany me, of course,” he told the steward, “along with Paneb, Ba-en-Ra, Tetiankh, and Perti and half my soldiers. I suppose Seneb will come also.”
“I heard him arguing with Tetiankh. Something about your opium.” Amunmose was frowning. “Seneb was trying to insist on taking charge of the portion of the shipment Tetiankh sets
aside for your use during the year. The physician doesn’t want Tetiankh to dry it and grind it up. Tetiankh’s getting old, Huy, too old for the labour of a body servant. He needs nights of uninterrupted rest and less bending and lifting. Not to mention the effort of your daily massage.”
“Why do you tell me this now?” Huy retorted more sharply than he had intended. Indeed he had always taken Tetiankh’s quiet service for granted. “Is there some reason why Tetiankh can’t approach me himself?”
“He’s too proud. He’d rather work until he drops than admit that he needs help.”
“Well, speak to him. Find him an assistant. Gods, Amunmose, it’s your job to see to the welfare of my staff! Use the authority I’ve given you!”
Amunmose looked at him keenly. “I’m glad we’re going away. You need plenty of time sitting on the deck of your barge doing absolutely nothing. Except learning Akkadian, unfortunately. The scribe Minister May has assigned to you is waiting outside in the corridor with a bag full of bits of broken pots for you to practise on as though you are back at school.” His tone was scornful. “Also, Physician Seneb wants to know whether morning or evening will be a more convenient time for him to examine you. Also, the Queen demands your presence in His Majesty’s private apartments as soon as possible. She sent Maani-nekhtef here with the message. Huy, I need a scribe of my own!”
“Then hire one and deal with Seneb and May’s servant. Both of them will travel with me. We’ll need at least one other vessel besides mine. Get Paroi to see to it.”
Amunmose nodded curtly. He was already barking orders as he walked away.
With his guards before and behind Paneb and himself, Huy made his way to Amunhotep’s now familiar double doors, waiting while Captain Perti knocked and Chief Steward Nubti appeared and bowed, greeting him politely and ushering him inside. Before he bent in reverence, Huy noted that the room was unnaturally empty. He extended his arms, bowed from the waist, and moved towards the two at the far end. Mutemwia was sitting with her feet on a low stool, her yellow sheath falling softly across her legs and brushing the floor. A coronet of thin, twisted gold wires studded with artificial lotus buds sat on her brow above a carefully painted face, the lustrous eyelids glinting with specks of gold dust mixed into the kohl, the perfect little mouth gleaming with red antimony rather than the more common orange henna. Rings weighed down her thin fingers. A tiny silver likeness of the vulture goddess Mut, consort of Amun and Mutemwia’s totem, hung from one lobe. Huy, going to his knees, thought with a throb of distress that she had never looked more regal.
Amunhotep was standing beside her chair, feet apart and sturdy arms folded. A starched linen helmet of white and blue stripes brushed his shoulders. Its rim, surmounted by a small rearing cobra with its hood flared, cut across his forehead. The Lady of Dread, ready to spit venom at any who might wish him harm, Huy told himself as the King gave him permission to straighten. Why are they both arrayed with such powerful symbols of divine defence? Are they protecting themselves against me? Amunhotep strode towards Huy with a broad smile, however, and Huy’s nostrils filled with the scent of rosemary as he was embraced.
“I’m almost as tall as you are, Uncle Huy!” Amunhotep exclaimed. “And did you remember that my Anniversary of Appearing is almost upon us? You’ll have left with Ptahmose by then, but I expect you to open the shrine in your cabin and offer incense to Amun on my behalf. My father died on the fifteenth of Mesore. Thus I ascended to godhead. Leave us, Nubti.”
The steward bowed and went out, closing the door behind him. For the first time Huy noticed Mutemwia’s personal scribe Nefer-ka-Ra, sitting cross-legged on the floor a little apart from her. His ink pot was open, papyrus unrolled across the surface of his palette, and a brush was in his hand. At Huy’s motion Paneb sank down beside his fellow and began his own preparations. Amunhotep swung back to Mutemwia’s chair. She had not stirred, merely acknowledging Huy’s veneration with a brief nod, but their eyes had met. Huy looked quickly away.
“So, Uncle,” the King continued. “My Mother tells me that you have had a vision concerning me. She has refused to say anything about it, although I’ve begged and threatened her, but it seems that she relents today. Yey has gone to the Beautiful West and we mourn for him no longer. Speak!” His words were light, joking, but beneath them Huy sensed the young man’s apprehension. He was tense himself.
“Sit if you wish, Huy.” The voice was the Queen’s. She was watching Huy with composure, her hands clasped loosely in her lap.
Huy declined. “The vision concerns you,” he said to Amunhotep directly, “but the Seeing was for Yey’s granddaughter Tiye, at her request and with the permission of her father the noble Yuya.”
Amunhotep grimaced. “Poor Uncle Huy! What a burdensome task for you! I hope your vision showed you that evil goose of hers taking after her for a change. It slips its leash far too often and attacks anyone it pleases, including me, but my Mother won’t allow me to order it beheaded and stuffed for one of my feasts. I swear Tiye sets it against me on purpose. Now.” His expression became solemn. “Tell me how a Seeing for Yuya’s daughter can have anything to do with me.”
“I didn’t expect it to, Majesty. Indeed I anticipated a very simple, perhaps even frivolous glance into the girl’s future for which I needed no permission from you. However, the god showed me something momentous.”
The boy had begun to drum his fingers impatiently against the back of his mother’s chair. Mutemwia herself had not stirred. Her gaze remained fixed on Huy. He could not read the thoughts behind it. With an inward sigh, he went on.
“Atum desires that Tiye should become your wife,” he said deliberately. “I Saw her beside you at Ipet-isut, crowned and clad in gold, on the day your Mother relinquishes her authority as Regent and you become a divine Incarnation. She was wearing the vulture headdress of female royalty, and gold and lapis hung from her earlobes. Mut’s claws held shen signs. You yourself were holding the crook and the flail in protection and blessing over the crowd. No matter how strange this seems,” he pressed on as the King’s fingers were stilled and his spine stiffened, “the will of the god is clear. For your own sake and for the health of Egypt, you must sign a marriage contract with Yuya’s daughter.”
He had imagined a violent outburst from Amunhotep and had steeled himself for whatever reaction his words would cause, but he was unprepared for the silence that fell, in which his voice seemed loud and domineering before it died away. Mutemwia remained still. So did the King. Huy, watching him carefully, saw his eyes gradually narrow. Presently he folded his arms, but the silence continued. Huy saw that he was thinking furiously, his hennaed lips pursing and relaxing, looking at Huy with a slitted gaze but not seeing him. At last he exhaled noisily, stepped from behind his mother, and sat, waving Huy down at the same time. Huy obeyed, bemused. Obviously there would be no display of royal bluster. Amunhotep crossed one leg over the other and leaned towards Huy.
“My trust in you has never been tested before,” he said, “but now I am forced to examine all the years behind us to assure myself that your own honesty has always been genuinely selfless. Year after year my Mother the Queen placed me in your care. She trusted you enough to guide my education during the months I spent on your estate, plant in me a reverence for the laws of Ma’at, rebuke my arrogance, and correct my childish restlessness. I came to love you, but was that because you set out to conquer the affections of a boy who would one day be a King? Bind me in affection to serve your own ambition for the future?”
Huy listened to him appalled, wanting to refute such insanity at once, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Mutemwia raise one hand, a quick gesture Amunhotep did not see, and he kept quiet.
“My Mother the Queen warns me often that a pharaoh may trust no one, that in the end the Incarnation of the god can rely on no advice but that of the god,” Amunhotep continued huskily. His hennaed palms drew apart, an evidence of doubt. “This instruction from Atum, this glimpse of what must come,
it could be a plot hatched out between you and Yuya to place both of you in positions of immense power.” Suddenly he buried his face in his hands. “How may I know the truth?” he groaned. “Today I realize that in fact I do trust no one, not even you, my Mother.”
Mutemwia made no move to touch him. However, she laid her arms along the arms of her chair and turned to look at him. “You need to trust no one and nothing but the accumulation of evidence, Amunhotep,” she said crisply. “Firstly, my spies confirm that Huy has visited Yuya’s house only once, and that was with us, to greet Yey before he died. Secondly, they confirm that Tiye caused a nuisance at Huy’s door in the night, that Huy had her escorted home immediately, that Yuya punished her but gave her permission to request a Seeing, and that Huy Scryed for her only once. His recovery took two days. If you paid more attention to the daily reports of both your ministers and our spies, you would know these things yourself instead of being content to hear them from me. You may thank the gods that I am to be trusted. As for Egypt’s Great Seer, why would he attempt to ingratiate himself with the Lady Tiye and her family when he already enjoys the esteem of a King?”
Amunhotep had lifted his head and was staring at her. She rapped him smartly but gently on the cheek with the back of her hand. “You are almost thirteen years old,” she chided him. “In three years’ time the Horus Throne and absolute power in Egypt will be entirely yours. Wake up! Listen to me, to Huy, to your ministers, with more than one ear tuned to the urgings of your friends who want you to spend your time careening in your chariot out on the desert. I think that I have been too lenient with you. Today the Seer has woken me. Do you intend to trust him or not?”
Huy saw no sign of resentment on the King’s face in spite of Mutemwia’s tongue-lashing. Instead he recognized an expression of serious consideration that returned him briefly and vividly to the halcyon years when he oversaw the tutoring of his royal charge during the months of the Inundation.
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