Leaving Perti and his guards outside the door, Huy waited to be admitted. Userhet knocked, and at once Nubti opened for Huy and Paneb. Beyond, in the rather cramped anteroom, Huy bowed respectfully from the waist, arms extended in worship. Paneb performed a full prostration.
“Rise, Scribe Paneb,” the King said immediately. He was smiling. So was Tiye, her eyes expectantly on Huy, her gold-ringed fingers wound about each other on her scarlet lap. She and the King were sitting close together, a table loaded with wine and sweetmeats in front of them. Amunhotep was cradling an ornate silver cup in both hands, a previous New Year’s gift from Yuya, Huy remembered, and by the slight glazing of his dark eyes as he slumped back in his chair Huy could see that he was drunk.
Your appetite for the grape is growing, my dear Emperor, Huy thought as he approached them. I can sympathize. By making me Egypt’s ruler, you’ve left yourself nothing to do but commune with Amun in his sanctuary on behalf of this country, flaunt our wealth and strength before ambassadors and foreign dignitaries, and pursue the delights of hunting and women, in both of which you excel. Your intelligence was obvious from the first day you arrived to stay with me on my estate outside Hut-herib. So was your wilfulness. I’m sad when I see the erosion of aptitude and self-discipline in you.
He glanced at Mutemwia. She was not smiling, and her glance as it met Huy’s was sombre. Her chair had been placed a little apart from the others. She was leaning slightly away from the chair’s back, her spine straight, knees together under the drape of white linen falling to the floor. Her bare arms rested along the gilded arms of her seat, but they were not relaxed. Your unflagging determination to see your son on the Horus Throne has brought you to this day, Mutemwia, Huy’s thoughts ran on. You decided that the vision that came upon me when he reached up and grasped my finger all those years ago was your turning point, a sign from the gods on which you built an entire destiny for your son and yourself. So did I. We grew as close as possible given my peasant blood, and I came to trust your knowledge and intuition. Instinct is warning you that this Seeing will be no happier than those I reluctantly gave to the rest of the King’s children, including the Hawk-in-the-Nest, Thothmes. You sense what I know and dread. The fate of Tiye’s little Prince will be more terrible than an early death.
“Please don’t ask us to leave the room,” the King joked, still smiling. “You like to conduct the Seeings in privacy, with your scribe beside you, but I beg you, my Uncle, let us stay! My son lies through there.” He waved towards the open doorway on Huy’s right. “Userhet will place his stool between us and the nursery, and I promise you we will not make a sound.”
Huy considered briefly. He knew that Amunhotep could make the request a command. He also knew that he himself would be obeyed if he insisted on being alone with the Prince. Amunhotep had not outgrown the early training towards compliance and respect for Huy first instilled in him. He loved and trusted his adopted uncle, and Huy loved him back. You’ve never been the problem, Emperor, he said silently. It’s the Empress who wishes to wrench the control of Egypt out of my hands.
“I’m honoured to be given the choice, Majesty,” he answered. “I shall perform the Seeing perfectly well if you wish to remain where you are. The work may be long or short, I don’t know, but I do ask for silence.”
The King gestured sharply, a servant opened the outer door and summoned Userhet, and Huy turned towards the inner room. As he did so, a wave of desperation swept over him. Poppy, he thought. Poppy poppy poppy. I hope Mutemwia has remembered that I’ll need it as soon as I’m finished.
Two women and an older man went to the floor and then rose as he and Paneb walked quietly towards the crib. Huy, in spite of the apprehension that was filling him, exclaimed in delight. “Royal Nurse Heqarneheh! It makes me happy to see you still occupying the position you held when the King was a child! You’ve aged well.”
“So have you, Great Seer.” The two men embraced briefly. “I have three sons and a noisy household of my own just outside Weset. The eldest will inherit the title of Royal Nurse when I retire and is already learning his future duties as my assistant.”
“Those in his care will be fortunate indeed if he’s anything like his father.” Huy moved regretfully away. “I would like to spend an evening reminiscing over all the months we spent together during the King’s stay at my house.”
“So would I. I remember how much he enjoyed fishing with you and Anhur. How is the captain of your guard?”
“He died. I miss him a great deal, but his replacement has many of his qualities. I must travel north soon, but when I return you will feast with me.”
The women had been watching the conversation nervously, and as Heqarneheh left the room they hurried to follow him. Userhet was already half blocking the doorway. At last Huy turned to the crib.
The baby had been so quiet Huy assumed that he was asleep, and he was shocked to bend over the crib and see two solemn eyes looking up at him between a tuft of brown hair and a swaddle of spotless linen. Most babies show excitement at the sudden appearance of an adult face above them. Their legs kick. Their arms wave. They gurgle and smile. But of course this royal offspring is too young to do more than stare up at me. He heard Paneb settle onto the floor beside him. The palette rattled softly as the scribe began to assemble his tools. Prince Amunhotep did not even blink at the sound. He continued to regard Huy impassively. Children of this age are incapable of displaying emotion, Huy thought, annoyed with himself. They sleep, they wake hungry and cry, they sleep again. I am imagining an indifference in this baby’s steady gaze. Carefully he reached in and loosened the swaddling. He felt a strange disgust as the baby moved in response to his action, a reluctance to touch the child, something he simply must do if he wanted to See for him. After a short struggle a pair of thin arms appeared, the hands impossibly tiny to Huy, the fingers delicate and beautiful. Those light brown eyes remained fixed on Huy’s face as Huy offered one of his own fingers, expecting the baby’s fist to curl around it, but with a barely heard mew Prince Amunhotep turned his head away sharply and his hands flailed. He knows, Huy thought in shock, but how can that be? How can he be afraid of me, this mindlessly animated piece of flesh? Gently but firmly Huy imprisoned the baby’s forearm, his thumb and index finger curling around it. At once the child became still.
“Are you ready, Paneb?” Huy asked, but it was not Paneb who answered.
“Paneb is ready, but clearly you are not,” the familiar voice remarked. Deep, rough to the point of hoarseness, its tones were redolent with animality. It was standing so close to Huy that he could smell its perfume, the sacred myrrh, mingling with the faint but pungent odour of its skin.
“Anubis,” he whispered. The jackal god smiled. Although he dared not turn to see the long furred snout, Huy had an instant image of sharp white fangs being bared in a semblance of mirth, and a pink tongue. A gust of kyphi incense invaded his nostrils.
“I have not had the pleasure of your company since you Saw for Tiye’s last disastrous effort to produce another boy for her husband,” Anubis said. “Poor Tiye! Empress of most of the world yet less fortunate than the servant woman with a dozen robust sons painting henna onto the soles of her feet.” The exotic timbre of his speech was rich with sarcasm. “But look, Great Seer! What is it that you are clutching? Could it be the insurance Amunhotep has prayed for?”
“He is a good King and Tiye a fine Queen,” Huy managed. “Do not make fun of their sorrow, Mouthpiece of Atum. I See for this child in obedience to them, but without hope. I love and pity them.” With a mixture of horror and a strange kind of relief Huy felt the god’s black hand come to rest on his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye he was able to glimpse the golden rings adorning each finger and a glitter of more gold from the thick bracelet encircling the sinewy wrist.
“I know you do,” Anubis said quietly. “Well actually, you love the King and Queen Mutemwia. Most of your pity, as well as your hidden anger, belongs to the Empress. She doe
s not deserve it. You should be turning it upon yourself.” Huy’s shoulder was gripped in a sudden and painful pinch and then released. “Who knows how many healthy little princes might be causing havoc today in the women’s quarters if Amunhotep had not been persuaded to marry Tiye? You need not respond. Under your hand my beloved Egypt has prospered, and Atum is pleased. You are a talented mer kat.”
Huy had no intention of responding. He knew that there was worse to come. But Anubis fell silent. Huy could feel the god’s warm, feral breath on the back of his head. He waited.
Presently Anubis sighed. “You have been considering how the Empress’s reputation might be sullied, how the King might be persuaded to send her home to her illustrious parents and elevate one of his other wives in her place. But you already knew that you had done your work all too well. Amunhotep would not have given her a second look if you had not deliberately thrown them together at every opportunity. Now he is hers. Although his sexual appetite is becoming legendary, her fire in bed gives him more pleasure than any concubine and her frank, intelligent conversation still delights and intrigues him. He is alternately comfortable and stimulated in her presence, and she will make sure that she maintains her hold on him. In spite of your disastrous blunder in forcing them upon each other, she is a woman to admire. Besides, you fool, as long as she was pregnant with the promise of another Prince, did you imagine that any scheme of yours could pry them apart? Too late, Great Seer. Too late!” The throaty undercurrent of the god’s tone degenerated into a snarl. “This human spawn will bring Egypt to the very brink of destruction! See what you have done!” Suddenly Anubis was facing Huy, his furred lips contorted, the snarl becoming a fierce growl as he bent and thrust his black hands into the crib. Jerking the baby upward, he threw it at Huy. “Here! Take it!” he spat. “See what is coming, and tremble under the weight of your responsibility!”
Shocked and unprepared for the god’s actions, Huy let go of the Prince then managed to catch the bundle, stumbled, and would have fallen if Anubis had not seized him by one of the braids lying on his chest and pulled him upright. Huy looked down, expecting to see himself clutching the boy, but his arms were empty. He was standing in the middle of a wide paved road facing a high walkway that joined the building on his left to another on his right, at the rear of a restless crowd whose murmurs held an undercurrent of impatience. The stone flags under his feet were hot. So was the top of his head. Looking about, squinting against the glare of an unforgiving sun, he saw flags, mighty pylons, wide paved streets, the dazzling limestone walls of more buildings. Trees flourished everywhere, seeming at first to be lushly green, but as Huy tried to find something recognizable in all this magnificence he realized that the palms were drooping, their crowns thin, many of their leaves brown and brittle. It must be summer, perhaps the month of Mesore, because it’s obvious that the Inundation has not yet begun. But where am I?
He did not think that he had spoken aloud, but the man standing next to him answered. “Come up from Kush or Wawat, have you? Working under one of Pharaoh’s governors there? You must have been away from Egypt for a long time. This is Akhet-Aten, the City of the Horizon of the Aten, and that”—he pointed to a wide aperture high up on the walkway he and Huy were facing—“is the Window of Appearing. The King stops there every day as he walks between the Palace and his House with the Queen and their princesses, and lets the people see him. Often he throws down gold collars to his ministers and commanders.”
“Gold collars? You mean the Gold of Favours?”
“I suppose so.” The Gold of Favours was bestowed only rarely on those who had shown particular bravery in battle or had served the King in some exemplary way. “I wish he’d pray to Isis and beg her to cry,” the man continued, “but every petition now must be addressed to the Aten. The King has forbidden the worship of any other god.”
Confused, with a growing fear, Huy began to sweat. “What month is this? How long has it been since the last Inundation?”
The man gave him a pitying look. “The sun has obviously addled you. It’s the beginning of Paophi. Egypt should be a huge lake by now, but the flood hasn’t come. We used to dedicate nine days to Hapi the god of the river during Paophi and Athyr. Not anymore. No wonder Isis and Hapi are punishing us. It was the same last year. At least His Majesty makes sure that no one living in Akhet-Aten goes without food or beer.”
“What of the rest of Egypt? Without the water and the silt there can be no new crops, or silage for the cattle!”
The man shrugged. “Not my concern. When Pharaoh closed the temples throughout the country, he brought all the stored treasures and grains here. We’ll be fed, and eventually the flood will come again. You must have noticed the low level of the river, coming up from the south.”
Huy was speechless. The sweat of dismay as well as heat was now trickling down his spine and temples. Lifting the hem of the blue kilt in which he now found himself dressed, he wiped his face. As he did so, a roar went up from the throng. Huy followed their gaze. A group of people now filled the window. Several very young girls clad in transparent white linen and loaded with jewellery were whispering and giggling to each other, painted palms to their mouths. A very beautiful woman wearing a coned headdress and a white sheath of many small pleats with similarly pleated voluminous sleeves stood closely to the left of a man with the most curious deformities Huy had ever seen. His face was fine, even noble, with its sweep of straight nose, its almond-shaped eyes and long chin, but beneath the loose feminine sheath he wore Huy could see that his chest was shrunken, his belly low-slung and protuberant, and his thighs distressingly fat. He appeared to have a pair of female breasts, their prominent nipples ringed in orange henna. His head was covered by a blue bag wig. He sported a wide gold necklace, and his arms and fingers were heavy with gold.
Huy’s attention moved to the woman on his right. He studied her carefully, all at once alert. She was familiar to him. Her heavy eyelids glistened with dark green paint, and the black kohl surrounding her eyes and sweeping across both temples was equally thick. Her sheath and similarly pleated sleeves were bordered with silver sphinxes. The ringlets of a formal wig fell almost to her waist. Her jewellery was beyond price: electrum bracelets, rings of amethyst and lapis lazuli, and an ornate sphinx pectoral made entirely of purple gold from Mitanni. One of her wrinkled breasts was bare, obviously a nod to fashion, as one of the much younger woman’s high, painted breasts was also unselfconsciously revealed. But it was the older woman’s headdress that puzzled Huy. Ornate and weighty, its polished disc flashed in the strong light. The two horns of Hathor curved around the disc and its two tall golden plumes seemed to quiver in the burning air. “The Empress’s crown,” Huy muttered. “Then where is the Emperor? I know that face. I’ve seen it before. Deep lines to either side of a downturned mouth. Sharp, watchful eyes. Authority …”
The man leaning out of the window had begun to speak, his voice a light treble, like a woman’s. “People of the Holy City! Today is blessed in the history of Egypt. Today the Empress graces us with her august presence. Today also, as a mark yet again of my favour towards him, the noble Pentu receives the Gold of Favours from my hand. Pentu!” A man came swaggering to kneel beneath the window, his arms upraised to catch the shower of gold that would come. “This is the third time, is it not?” the man in the blue bag wig continued.
“It is indeed, Most Munificent One!”
“For your devotion to the Aten, for your sacrifices and prayers, I make you a Person of Gold!”
Huy watched aghast as the malformed figure began to strip himself of his jewellery and toss it down to the man below. Sacrifices and prayers? And the third time this Pentu has been given so rare and precious an award? What is happening here? The older woman in the long wig and Empress’s crown leaned towards the man next to her, grasping his arm and speaking rapidly into his ear, her face a mask of anger.
“The goddess is not pleased,” Huy’s companion remarked. “She arrives today from W
eset to find her husband-son displaying himself rudely like any commoner, and debasing one of Egypt’s most hard-won honours. Amusing, is it not, Seer Huy? Titillating perhaps?”
The voice had become deeper. Huy swung round. Anubis’s black jackal’s eyes met his. The god’s muzzle was slightly open, and as Huy watched, a pink tongue emerged to moisten the furred lips.
“We are both clad in blue, the colour of mourning,” Anubis went on. “Now why is that? Why do I grieve, and wait for you to recognize your own anguish? Why have I been standing in Set’s temple, inhaling the smoke of the sacred kyphi that rises in Set’s sanctuary? To beg my brother, the god of chaos, to have mercy on Egypt, or to bury her under the sands of her deserts? No. I would have done so, but Atum wishes to wait and see what his chosen Seer will do with this final chance to avert the blasphemy of Akhet-Aten and its decadent inhabitants. Look at her, Huy! At last she knows what she has done! At last she prays for a pardon that the gods will not give her! Look at her!”
The King's Man Page 33