Seer of Egypt

by Pauline Gedge

  Later, sitting on cushions within the protection of the blessed shadow cast by the portico, their backs against the house wall and eyes narrowed against the fierce glare beyond, Ishat listened while Huy told her of his father’s suggestions.

  “It all seems very sensible,” she said when he had finished. “I don’t know why we didn’t think of these things before. I’ve been luxuriating in gems and linens and thoroughly enjoying myself, and I haven’t wanted to look into the future. But I see the dangers.” She turned towards Huy. One bead of sweat began to trickle down her temple and she brushed it away.

  Her hands are becoming softer, Huy thought, watching the careless gesture. The colour of her skin is paler. She is losing the dark stigma of the peasant who is forced to spend too much time under the sun. I suppose I am also.

  “Ask Hapu what land is available, Huy. Let him do this favour for you. It would be a good idea to approach Mayor Mery-neith as well. He’ll know what acres around Hut-herib have gone khato.”

  “But khato land reverts directly to the King. He controls its disposition. Will I seem ungrateful, asking his permission and using his gold to buy it?”

  “Giving back to him something that was his?” Ishat responded promptly. “Surely he will applaud such thrift! Aren’t we Egyptians famous for our canny dealings as well as our piety?” She leaned closer. “You’re afraid to incur his displeasure, aren’t you, Huy? So am I. I imagine losing all we have, and I am terrified. But to go on relying on His Majesty’s good graces is terrifying also. Your father is right. Kings can be unpredictable and none dare to oppose them. Let’s take the gamble.”

  But if we lose, and cause the King offence, my supply of poppy will dry up, Huy thought. That I cannot risk.

  “What of his other suggestion?” he said aloud. “Egypt trades with Keftiu and Alashia, we bring in gold from Kush and incense from Karoy to the south. Both commodities belong to the King and the temples, but what else comes into the country with the caravans?”

  “I don’t know, but Merenra can find out. He talks to other stewards. Are we agreed on this, Huy? Of course, I’m no more than your scribe and the final decision is yours, but it would set our hearts at ease.”

  Huy chuckled. “You have a much better grasp of such matters than I, and you know it, Ishat! After the sleep we’ll draft a letter to Mery-neith and tell Merenra to make his inquiries.”

  “Should you talk to your uncle? Investing with him would entail no risk to us. Everyone who can afford them wears his perfumes, and he is one of the few suppliers of the sacred kyphi to the temples.”

  “No,” Huy snapped. “Ker shall not benefit from any gold of mine.”

  Amunmose arrived one day before Thothmes’ barge nudged the watersteps. He was expected and challenged and passed through the gate by the guards. However, most of the household was sleeping away another blazing afternoon, and Huy, coming downstairs some time later, found him dozing on the floor of the reception hall, his head uncomfortably pillowed on a bulging leather satchel. Huy stirred him gently with one foot. “You asked to enter my service seven years ago if I was ever in a position to hire you, Amunmose,” he said as the young man opened his eyes. “Well, here you are. I hope it makes you happy.”

  Amunmose scrambled up, wincing. “Ouch! I have a crick in my neck and an ache in my back,” he complained. “I sailed with a herald as far as Nag-ta-Hert and then I had to walk west through fields and over canals to find your ugly town, and then I had to ask for directions to your house, and then I got lost.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s a miracle I found you, Huy. I’d like to say that you haven’t changed at all, but in truth you bear little resemblance to that insecure boy who stood trembling with me before the door of Thoth’s temple at Khmun.” He bowed. “Thank you for remembering me, and rescuing me from Ra’s kitchens. What would you have me do?”

  Huy laughed from sheer happiness. The memory of this cheerful face, Amunmose’s tactful attempts to allay a lad’s fear of a strange city, his reassurances, and his pride in being given the task of accompanying Huy came vividly back to Huy now. He stepped forward and embraced him.

  “You were so good to me, and you took my mind off the task ahead of me by telling me about Khmun as we sailed past its environs,” he said. “A child does not forget such kindnesses. Have you returned to see your family in Khmun lately? Is your mother still making the soup you boasted to me about?”

  “What a memory! Yes, my mother is well and I am still smug regarding her skills.” Amunmose looked him up and down much as Anhur had done. “You’ve become a man,” he nodded, “and a great one at that, if the stories I hear are to be believed. I suspect that from now on it will be you, Master, who educates me.” He glanced around. “A lovely house, and I’m eager to begin my duties in it. Already I feel I am basking in your reflected glory!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! I need an under steward, Amunmose. My steward, Merenra, is desperate for assistance. I have acquired a few domestic servants, but Merenra needs someone who can assume an authority they cannot. You read and write?”

  Amunmose’s brow had begun to lift at Huy’s words until it almost disappeared under his thatch of dusty, unruly black hair. “You’re not putting me in your kitchen?”

  “No. Khnit now has all the help she needs.”

  Amunmose flung out his arms and hopped from one foot to the other. “Wonderful! Unbelievable! I can read simple instructions and write numbers and lists, but that’s all.”

  “That’s enough.” He called and Tetiankh came hurrying down the stairs. “This is my body servant, Tetiankh,” Huy explained. “Go with him to the bathhouse. He will wash you and shave your head. Then he can take you to Merenra. Are you hungry? Tetiankh, make sure Merenra feeds him after he’s been cleaned up.”

  Amunmose sobered. Reaching down for his satchel, he slung it over one shoulder and stared at Huy. “Those six years have dealt strangely with you, Master,” he said with a new respect. “You may trust me to serve you honestly and with loyalty. I consider myself privileged to be here.”

  Huy watched him follow Tetiankh into the passage that ran right through the house and out to the rear. He was limping slightly, but there was still a bounce to his step. Huy knew he would not regret his decision to keep the promise he had made, although it had been spoken out of a boy’s panicked desire to keep a friendly face close by. He set off in search of Ishat.

  Early the following day, Thothmes arrived. Huy had set one of the servants to watch by the watersteps, and as soon as Thothmes’ barge hove into view, he and Ishat hurried there. Ishat was clearly nervous. She had dressed in gold-bordered, filmy scarlet linen. Her lips had been coloured with red antimony, and her eyelids, above heavy lines of dark grey kohl, had been dusted with powdered gold. The gold circlet hung with jaspers rested on her head, the one large red stone gracing her forehead, and her hair had been gathered into the net attached to the headband. Her sandals sported tiny red jaspers nestling between each toe. She moved in a cloud of perfume, the blend of myrrh, cassia, and henna flowers that was becoming her signature, and although her throat was bare, the gold bracelets on her arms clicked against each other. Her forefingers carried thick gold bands on which green turquoise scarabs sat. The fingers of power, Huy thought, half amused and half sympathetic to the pulse beating rapidly in her neck. She is learning not only to hide her insecurities but also to amplify the nimbus of influence surrounding every part of our being.

  They waited while the craft nosed the steps, Anhur (as Huy’s captain) gave a formal challenge that received an equally formal answer, and the ramp was run out. Thothmes did not wait. Running along it, trailed by his attendants, he flung himself on Huy and hugged him tightly, beaming with pleasure. “I would have come to visit weeks ago, but my father is not well and I was deluged with work,” he explained. “I miss you every day, old friend! And you!” He turned and took Ishat’s hand, bringing it to his mouth. “I relive the time we spent together, with you showing me the rather dubious de
lights of Hut-herib. I remember how much we laughed together, my Lady Ishat. I hope you have not forgotten me!”

  Huy did not miss the pleading behind Thothmes’ light words, and a little of the joy went out of the bright morning.

  “No indeed, Lord,” Ishat responded stiffly, withdrawing her fingers. “You were a most agreeable companion. Come into the house. Khnit has prepared a small meal for us, but tonight we will absolutely gorge on her delicious food!”

  Thothmes’ expression of disappointment at her decorum faded. He glanced to where the members of Huy’s staff were lined up under the portico, waiting to reverence him. He whistled. “An estate, a full complement of servants, and I’m tied up beside a rather pretty barge that must be yours,” he said to Huy as they linked arms and began to stroll up the path, Thothmes’ train trotting behind him. “How odd are the twists and gyrations of fate, Huy! Could you ever have imagined this wealth for yourself when we shared a cell at school together, or when you and Ishat existed in that cramped hovel beside the beer house? I want to hear everything. The King must be very pleased with you indeed. Does he summon you often?”

  “Not at all. His ministers and courtiers come for consultations, but His Majesty remains silent.”

  “How odd. You would think that he would want the future told for our new Prince Amunhotep. Now, if our wonderful King Thothmes, the third of that illustrious name, still sat on the Horus Throne, he would have insisted that you live within the palace compound and See for his family every day! He would have truly appreciated you.”

  Huy smiled to himself. Thothmes had idolized the late King and had mourned deeply when he went to ride in the Sacred Barque.

  They had arrived before the solemn line of Huy’s servants. Huy introduced them, noting that Amunmose, now fully shaved and clothed in the ankle-length sheath of a steward, was almost unrecognizable. Thothmes greeted them cheerfully, they bowed, and Huy dismissed them. As they scattered to their duties, he led his friend into the house and up to the guest room.

  Thothmes whistled. “You wrote to me about the lion skin. A little overpowering, don’t you think? I’d like to give the couch to Ibi and sleep on the roof myself. Do you object?”

  “Of course not.”

  “What a good idea.” Ishat had entered and was standing behind them. “You can shout for your body servant through the wind catcher, Thothmes. Now let’s find some shade and drink beer, and you can give us all your news. How does the Hawk sepat fare under your lackadaisical hand?”

  They half lay on reed mats and cushions under the thick canopy of the sycamores growing against the southern wall while Thothmes’ steward Ptahhotep and a self-conscious Amunmose served them beer and sweetmeats. Before long, Ishat pulled off her headdress and shook out her hair. “It’s too hot for such formality,” she complained. “Here in the Delta the summer is bad enough. It must be unbearable further south.”

  A moment of silence followed. Huy, glancing at Thothmes, saw that his friend’s gaze had become fixed on the wealth of black tresses suddenly tumbling past Ishat’s shoulders. Ishat had also become aware of Thothmes’ scrutiny. Awkwardly, she cleared her throat. “Thothmes, what’s wrong with Nakht?” she said. “You mentioned an illness in your last letter. Is it serious?”

  Thothmes did not answer at once. Then he sighed. “I don’t think so, but he seems listless and easily fatigued. Our physician has been unable to diagnose the problem as yet. Father and I work together in his office in the mornings, but in the afternoons I am left to see to the affairs of the sepat by myself.” He grinned ruefully. “I listen to farmers complaining about the encroachment of their neighbours’ fields onto their own, and persons who feel the merchants have cheated them, and in another month, when the taxes are due, there will be screams from everyone as the taxgatherers go about their business for the King. But I like our Mayor. He and I have begun more beautifying in Iunu.”

  “I remember the city as being already very beautiful,” Huy put in. “Do you go to the temple often, Thothmes? Do you ever revisit our school?”

  “Nasha and I go on feast days,” he replied, “and of course I pray to my dear Osiris Thothmes Glorified. I don’t bother with the school. Ramose continues to run it with his usual efficiency.”

  “And is Nasha well?” Huy asked carefully.

  Ishat shot him a glance. I know what you will ask next, her eyes told him scornfully. Huy looked away, lifting his cup, but there were flies struggling in the dregs of his beer. He poured them onto the grass.

  “Nasha never changes,” Thothmes said. He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. “Father despairs of her. She’s rejected every suitor and now few call on her. Soon no one will want to marry her. She’ll be too old.” He cocked one sleepy eye at Huy. “I think she’s been in love with you ever since you began coming to our house on school holidays. Her tongue is sharper, but she retains her great sense of humour.”

  There was a moment of silence. Huy listened to the drone of bees searching in vain for flowers that had long since died. Across from him, his path to the watersteps lay white and dazzling in the sunlight, and the stiff palms lining it cast no shade. At length he could bear it no more. Ishat was idly plying her fly whisk, turning her sandalled foot back and forth to see the jaspers glow as they caught the light now creeping over her ankles.

  “And what of Anuket?” Huy blurted, his throat tight. “I know that she lives with her husband, the son of the Governor of the Uas sepat, at Weset. Do you ever see her?”

  “Sometimes.” Thothmes turned onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow so that he could see Huy’s face. “Everyone likes to get drunk at feasts, but I suspect that Anuket takes too much wine every day. She has put on weight and her eyes have become permanently swollen and dark-circled. She carps at her husband in public and no longer has any interest in weaving wreaths and garlands.” He sighed. “Father has reprimanded her, but it does no good. You’re not still in love with her, are you, Huy? She seems unhappy. I wonder how different she would be if Father had allowed you to marry her.”

  “She would still be unhappy, for Huy cannot consummate any love, as you may remember, Thothmes,” Ishat snapped. She drew her feet in under her, out of the reach of the sun, with one sharp movement.

  “I had forgotten.” Thothmes sat up and grasped Huy’s hand. “Your life has become so … so normal, Huy. Everything that happened to you years ago seems like a very dim memory. So the god’s hand still rests heavily on you? Forgive me.”

  It is you who should be begging my forgiveness for your outburst, Huy thought, looking across at Ishat. You have humiliated me and you know it. She would not look at him. She was running her hand back and forth over the dry spikes of the grass.

  Huy gave Thothmes’ hand a shake and withdrew his own. “Of course,” he said. “I never had any secrets from you, my dear friend, and I can forgive you anything. Truthfully, I think of Anuket less often, but when I do the pain is still there. I’m sorry she’s in distress.”

  “It may not be the wine, though,” Thothmes added. “Her husband owns many acres of poppy fields. Perhaps she indulges in the drug too much.”

  “Poppy fields? Around Weset?” Huy leaned forward.

  Thothmes nodded. “Importing it has become too expensive, so the Governor petitioned the King for a few arouras to see if we could grow our own. The experiment was successful. Now Weset is surrounded by a sea of red and white poppies, and Anuket’s husband and his father the Governor are doing very well out of the sales. The quality is quite high, or so I hear. I take it rarely myself.”

  Now Ishat met Huy’s glance. Her eyebrows went up.

  “Thothmes, would it be possible to invest in this enterprise?” Huy asked. “Would you put forward my suggestion to Anuket’s husband?” Quickly he explained to Thothmes how he wanted to accrue his own security. “The poppy would be a profitable venture for me, as well as purchasing land around Hut-herib. My father is looking into that. Is Egyptian poppy exported yet?”
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br />   “Not yet, but already there have been requests from foreigners.” He considered, his head on one side. “I see no reason why your gold should not be as good as anyone else’s. I will send a scroll to Amunnefer. I’m sure he will be agreeable.”

  “Thank you.”

  The conversation turned to other topics until it gradually died into the stunned quiet of the approaching hour of the afternoon sleep. Merenra had come out of the house and was hovering under the pillars. Huy roused himself. “Let us rest, and talk more this evening when it’s cooler.” He got up and held a hand down to Ishat, but Thothmes was quicker. Ishat reached for the young man’s grasp, came to her feet, and smiled at him.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Thothmes,” she said. “I’ve missed you.” She walked away without a glance at Huy, who followed miserably. I am going to lose her, and why should I be resentful? I cannot offer her what she needs.

  Once on his couch, the closed slats of his window hanging casting bands of muted light across his floor, he lay staring into the dimness of his hot room feeling utterly without volition.

  At dusk, the three of them gathered in the reception hall, where they fell upon the feast Khnit and her assistants had prepared, and laughed because they were grossly outnumbered by their combined servants, and applauded the music of Thothmes’ harpist, who had travelled with him. Ishat seemed to have recovered her good humour. She drank copious amounts of shedeh-wine, and after the dishes had been cleared away she drunkenly insisted on dancing for them, but Huy, watching her sway in and out of the shadows cast by the flickering lamps, thought that there was a feverish edge to her gaiety. Thothmes tapped the floor in time to the music, his expression fixed on her avidly. Huy hoped that, once she had exhausted herself, she would go straight to her bedchamber, and indeed she soon bade them a good night and disappeared unsteadily in the direction of the stairs.