“I hear you, my Mother,” Amunhotep said.
He reached across and touched Huy’s wrist, a charmingly tentative action that filled Huy with warmth. This is the child I know, the kind-hearted boy I remember.
“Uncle Huy, I truly dislike Tiye. Are you sure it was her that you Saw? Why her, a commoner, and not my sister Iaret, who is fully royal and quite legitimately claims pre-eminence? Not that I like her either—she whines a great deal—but marriage to her would reinforce my seat on the Horus Throne.”
So Amunhotep still doubts his blood-uncle’s desire to relinquish any right to govern Egypt, Huy thought. Does Mutemwia? “It was definitely the Lady Tiye,” he replied, “and Majesty, the Atum did not see fit to acquaint me with the reasons for his choice. All I know is that, commoner or not, you are to make her Chief Wife.”
“You do realize that if I marry Tiye I’ll be giving her family precedence over every other noble in Egypt,” Amunhotep commented. “The title Yuya has inherited, Chief Rekhit, will be more than just an acknowledgement of gratitude to Yey and now to Yuya. Must I truly do this thing?” He rose and stood irresolute. “I suppose that Atum’s reasons will eventually become clear, and if I disobey the god I will certainly incur a punishment. May I consider the matter for a while, become used to it, before the Minister for Protocol draws up a contract?” His grin was rueful. “At least I won’t be expected to do my duty and consummate the union at once, and by then there will be concubines to compensate me. Are you sure of what you Saw, Uncle Huy? I am shocked by this astonishing turn my life must take.”
Huy also left his chair, and bowed. “Majesty, if you wish, I will See for you,” he offered. “You must have no qualms regarding such an important matter.”
The young man’s eyes were clouded as they met Huy’s. “If you have lied to me about Tiye’s Seeing, then you can just as easily fabricate a vision for me. Perhaps I should consult one of my astrologers. All they do so far is tell me which third of each day is lucky and which unlucky. They all promised me a very lucky beginning to this morning, but they did not say why.”
“It’s your privilege to command an answer from the oil in the Anubis bowl,” Huy replied. “In any event, make a sacrifice for clarity of mind to Atum, and to Amun also. I leave very soon for a tour of the Delta with Ptahmose, so your decision is required by the time I return. Forgive me for distressing you, Majesty, but believe that I have spoken the truth. Egypt will need you and Tiye together. Please dismiss me now.”
Amunhotep nodded. Thankfully, Huy backed out of the room, Nubti entered, and the doors were closed.
THE VIZIER’S FLOTILLA left Mennofer at dawn two days later. Five barges were strung out in the centre of a river whose level was slowly dropping towards the sullen current that would hopefully presage the annual Inundation. Huy’s two barges followed those of Ptahmose. To Huy’s relief, his nephew had decided to bring up the rear in his own vessel. “I can’t cram my staff in with yours, Uncle,” he had told Huy the day before, “and there’ll be no room on your barge for me, my scribe, or my guards. I refuse to share the common servants’ space. I usually make this annual inspection aboard the Vizier’s barge, but the Regent has requested that you sail with him instead.” His tone had made it clear that he resented giving place to Huy, who responded with a polite apology and a sense of liberation.
So Huy sat and talked with Ptahmose under the large awning set up on the deck of the Vizier’s boat while their scribes and body servants drank beer in the shade of the cabin and the rowers moved them slowly past the dusty, drooping palms lining the banks. Beyond the trees, the air was often thick with chaff from the scythes and billhooks of the reapers who moved across the golden fields, the crops falling before them. But soon the Delta harvest of blooms took the place of barley and wheat, wafting the mingled scents of narcissus, lilies, jasmine, the aromatic tang of heliotrope, and a dozen others, forcibly returning Huy to the days of his childhood when his father had toiled for his uncle in fields like these.
Vizier Ptahmose was a charming, approachable man and Huy was soon entirely at ease in his presence. He could speak as knowledgeably about Egypt’s attempts to grow and harvest frankincense as about the strengths and weaknesses of the governors who answered to him. “Her Majesty the Regent has asked me to acquaint you fully with the responsibilities of my position,” he told Huy. “Your nephew knows them well. In the past he has accompanied me on my tours of duty while he saw to his own task of military inspection. However, Her Majesty wishes you to form your own opinion regarding the forces patrolling Ta-Mehu before you hear any report from the Scribe of Recruits.” He had cast a humorous sidelong glance at Huy. “Her Majesty says that she commanded your nephew to take you into every fort, garrison, and encampment over which he has jurisdiction, but to make no comment to you whatsoever regarding the officers and men you meet, or their deployment. I believe that your nephew has not yet spoken of this to you?” The tactful words were partly a question.
“Amunhotep-Huy and I have little but our blood in common,” Huy replied heavily. “I love him as my brother Heby’s son and I remember the difficulties of his childhood. I wish him only good. Although we are not close, I do know that where his loyalty to Egypt and to the King is concerned, he is an honest man. He will tell me of the Regent’s injunction when he is ready to do so.”
“Her Majesty spends much time pondering the future of this country,” the Vizier responded with seeming irrelevance. “We will see many changes in the months to come.”
The city of Iunu, where Thothmes was Governor of the Heq-at sepat, was their first stop. Huy, Ptahmose, and Amunhotep-Huy disembarked in the brilliant red of a late sunset to be greeted respectfully by Thothmes’ elder son. Bowing first to the Vizier, the young man indicated the litters resting on the broad watersteps. “You are expected, noble ones,” he said. “A meal has been prepared for you.”
“Assistant Governor Huy,” Ptahmose responded with a smile. “Of course you know the Great Seer and his nephew, the Scribe of Recruits.”
Huy embraced his namesake with delight. “You look more like your father every day! I trust he is in good health? And Ishat?”
They chatted as they moved towards the litters resting above the wide public watersteps. The Vizier had a litter to himself, but Huy was forced to share one with Amunhotep-Huy, who refused to answer Huy’s attempts at light conversation as they set off, and looked so miserable that Huy reluctantly asked him if he was well.
“There is nothing wrong with my body, Uncle,” Amunhotep-Huy blurted as though he had been waiting for an opportunity to unburden himself. “But I am troubled in my mind.”
Startled, Huy looked across at him. In all the years Huy had known him, he had never once confided anything of importance. The litter’s curtains had remained tied back. The evening was still and hot. Red dust from the sandy street rose in thin clouds from the feet of the accompanying soldiers, and Huy could hear Paneb’s deep, measured tones and Perti’s lighter answers as they strode behind the bearers. Amunhotep-Huy leaned closer. Huy could smell his sweat mingled with the faint scent of sam flowers. He had time to wonder at his nephew’s choice of wild wormwood blooms for perfume before Amunhotep-Huy passed a tentative hand over his shaven skull. His brown shoulders were hunched.
“Yours are not the ears I would choose, but there’s no one else I can ask about this,” he went on huskily. “At least you have a reputation for keeping your counsel. I am the Scribe of Recruits. I am known for my forceful speech and strong decisions. By my own diligence and with help from my military tutor, Officer Irem, I won a position as a scribe in the palace, and then as an under steward. You didn’t know that, did you?” For a moment the usual caustic quality sharpened his speech, but Huy had merely begun to shake his head when Amunhotep-Huy plunged on. “Then Her Majesty the Regent became aware of the time I spent enjoying the company of the soldiers and was pleased to promote me yet again, to my present position as Scribe of Recruits. I am responsible for admin
istering the army and navy and regulating the defence of the Delta. I enjoy my work. I do it well.”
He bit his lip and fell briefly silent, obviously struggling for words of anxiety that must surely, Huy thought, be foreign to him. Huy was entirely bemused by this uncharacteristic outburst. I could point out that every member of our family received a preferment when I was summoned to court, he thought. Your father became Mayor of Mennofer and Overseer of the Cattle of Amun, not to mention the added prestige of being appointed Overseer of the Two Granaries of Amun in the Sepats of Ta-Mehu. Your half-brother Ramose was made steward in the Mansion of the Aten at Iunu although he was only eleven at the time, a wise and crafty way for Mutemwia to ensure the loyalty of a future spy among the devotees of that god. Certainly Her Majesty fixed upon your talent, my cantankerous young relative, but her true incentive was to lure me into her service. Huy said none of these things. He waited for Amunhotep-Huy to compose himself. At last the handsome features so like those of his father were turned down to the fingers clasped tightly across the burly thighs.
“But now Her Majesty summons me and tells me that I am to accompany you—not that you are to accompany me—with Vizier Ptahmose as he holds his annual consultations,” Amunhotep-Huy continued, his voice uneven. “Everyone at court knows that you have her ear and that your influence over the King is absolute. I decided that perhaps you had petitioned His Majesty for the position of Vizier instead of Ptahmose. I thought nothing of it.”
No, of course you didn’t, Huy wanted to snap at him, his temper rising. “You do not know me at all if you think—” Huy began, but Amunhotep-Huy cut him short. Hot fingers closed over Huy’s wrist.
“That wasn’t it at all!” he said urgently. “I am to take you into every fort, every garrison, I am to make every officer in the Delta aware of you, I am even to travel with you east along the Horus Road, and I am not to say one single word regarding the deployments I have effected or the reasons why I have chosen to distribute the troops in the manner you will see! The gods know that I do not yet hate you, Uncle, in spite of our differences, but if my position as Scribe of Recruits is taken away from me and given to you, the Queen’s willing lapdog, I shall beg Set for vengeance!” His voice had risen and he had begun to shake.
Huy hushed him savagely, aware that the men surrounding them were now quiet. He pulled himself loose from his nephew’s clutch. “I have always known of your antipathy towards me,” he said, fighting the surge of anger that threatened to spill over into words that could never be withdrawn. “I have never understood it, unless its roots lie somewhere in your discontented childhood. You do me a terrible disservice if you truly believe that I would deliberately seek to undermine you. I have no desire whatsoever to take your title away. Think, Amunhotep-Huy! You have already been promoted three times. Have you no confidence in your ability? In the Regent’s wisdom? Your assumption is nothing but a fantasy.”
“I do not trust you!”
“You should. I came to you, seeking your advice regarding my need for a suitable captain. You agreed that no matter what hostility lay between us, a loyalty to the family came first. You remember?”
“Yes.”
“Her Majesty understands that allegiance. She will not force a choice on me between my duty to my family and my duty to Egypt, because she acknowledges my honesty. Where’s your courage and the faith you have in your own talents, nephew? Do you want me to See for you after all?”
“That is not necessary,” the other said stiffly. “I apologize for my loss of self-control.”
The bearers were slowing. Amunhotep-Huy was struggling to recover his composure as quickly as possible, and dismally Huy realized that in confessing his inmost fear to him and thus his vulnerability, his nephew would now hate him all the more.
His reunion with his two oldest friends and their remaining children was joyful, and Huy filed away the painful exchange with Amunhotep-Huy to the back of his consciousness as he embraced each one and allowed himself to be led into Thothmes’ reception hall. To his great pleasure another familiar figure rose from among the scattering of little gilded dining tables, goblet in hand, a cluster of blue faience cornflowers pinned behind one ear. “Nasha!” he called, and hurrying towards one another, they hugged fiercely. Thothmes’ older sister smelled of wine and Susinum, a blend of lilies, myrrh, and cinnamon in balanos oil, which Huy seldom encountered.
“You never write to me,” Nasha complained as they drew apart. “Here I am, bored and lonely, rattling around in the house next door, reduced to playing with my jewellery and dyeing my hair, while you share the exalted confidences of our young King and think yourself too good for us ordinary folk!” She raised herself on her toes and kissed his cheek. “You must eat beside the Vizier and then talk of serious things with him and Thothmes in the office, but afterwards we have planned to drink the rest of the night away on Thothmes’ raft. You remember the last time we did that, Huy? It was after the celebration of Thothmes’ marriage to Ishat. Father was dying. Those few days were a strange mixture of sadness and pleasure.”
A lump formed in Huy’s throat as he looked down into her painted face. The eyes were as sparkling and alive as ever, speaking to him of Nasha’s indomitable and optimistic nature, but her age had become increasingly evident in the sagging of her cheeks and the lines around her hennaed mouth.
“You should have married, dear one,” he said. “The gods know, you had suitors enough!”
She wrinkled her nose. “They all had something wrong with them. Besides, I have father’s house and estate. Why should I share the riches? We can talk later.”
Thothmes’ steward had approached and was waiting politely to show Huy to his table, and as Huy followed him one of Thothmes’ servant girls reached up and laid a wreath of quivering blooms around his neck.
The feast was a happy one, full of banter and good conversation. Even Amunhotep-Huy, sitting on Ishat’s left, became flushed with Thothmes’ wine and hummed to the music of the harp and drum as the sweet nehet figs in date syrup were offered and the warm night air made the lamp flames tremble in their alabaster cups.
Afterwards, Thothmes, Huy, Ptahmose, and Amunhotep-Huy, together with their scribes, gathered in the office, and Thothmes in his capacity as Governor gave the Vizier an overview of the business of the sepat: the quantity and estimated value of the various harvests still in progress, the legal disputes adjudicated, the advancement of building projects, any problems concerning the administration of both secular and religious institutions, and the overall mood of the populace in general. There were few areas of concern. Iunu was an ancient and wealthy city, its priests and nobles content, its commoners well fed, and the peasant farmers and retired soldiers coaxed abundant fruits and vegetables out of the fertile soil. Huy, watching his friend’s sensitive and intelligent face, found himself giving thanks to Atum for the warmth and intimacy that had been his since his childhood days at school here in the temple of Ra, when he and Thothmes had been drawn together, the peasant and the noble’s son, and Thothmes’ family had made him one of their own.
When Ptahmose and his attendants had returned to the barge, Huy dismissed Paneb, and arm in arm with Thothmes he walked to the watersteps, where torches blazed, illuminating a raft piled with cushions and rocking gently. Amunhotep-Huy had refused Thothmes’ invitation to join them. “You and the rest of my uncle’s friends will doubtless while away the hours in reminiscences, Governor Thothmes,” he had pointed out. “I thank you for your hospitality, but I think I’ll retire to my cot.”
“He is not a happy man, is he, Huy?” Thothmes had remarked as they watched the darkness gradually swallow up Amunhotep-Huy’s rigid spine. “How’s the rest of your family, by the way? Heby and Iupia? What’s your other nephew, Ramose, doing?”
A peace stole over Huy as he lowered himself onto the raft between Ishat and Nasha. Much as he loved Thothmes’ children, he was glad that none of them had joined the group. True to Amunhotep-Huy’s prediction, there w
ere memories to share, but much of the talk centred around Huy’s daily life in the palace.
“Who would have thought that the awkward boy with the inarticulate passion for our sister Anuket was destined to advise the King himself,” Nasha commented at one point. “You must be incurring a flood of jealousy among His Majesty’s other counsellors.” Huy answered her lightly, examining himself as he spoke for any remaining vestige of the obsession for Thothmes’ manipulative younger sister that had almost destroyed him. He found nothing but a faint echo from the past, and gave himself up to the familiar pleasures of the present company.
Ptahmose’s advance through the sepats of the Delta followed much the same pattern as his visit to Iunu. In the centre of each district, whether city or town, he, Huy, and Amunhotep-Huy were feasted, the business of local government was discussed, and the following morning the barges would set off to negotiate whatever tributary of the river they must follow. During the idle hours Ptahmose gave Huy his personal assessment of the loyalty and efficiency of the various governors, his thoughts on the resolution of their difficulties, and a brief sketch of their family histories. Huy listened, noted, and formed his own opinions. He was aware of the Delta as never before—a vast, lush garden where fat livestock grazed, where the air, heavy with the humidity of the many rivulets and canals in spite of the time of year, carried the odours of a riotous fecundity to his delighted nostrils. Both Amun’s overseers and those of the King pastured their herds here, but Huy began to notice many small flocks of sheep and groups of fat swine occupying the grassy fields. Their guardians, wearing rough skirts and thick cloaks, stared at them impassively as the barges slipped by.
“Tribesmen from Rethennu,” Ptahmose told him. “I don’t suppose you would have encountered them at Hut-herib when your father worked in the perfume fields. They like to keep their animals grazing fairly close to the Horus Road. The governors of our northeastern sepats are endlessly settling quarrels that arise between our farmers and the slaves over the use of the land.” Any non-citizen or seasonal labourer from beyond Egypt’s borders was called a slave. It was a light, rather scornful word, and Ptahmose’s tone was condescending.
The King's Man Page 16