Ptahhotep bent reverentially towards Huy. “Your pardon, Master. The Governor must rest now, but he wishes your presence in his office at sundown, if that is acceptable to you.”
Huy nodded. Thothmes was waving at him as Ishat, with Iput behind, followed Nasha out of the room.
“I’m too excited to rest,” Thothmes said as Huy reached him. “Tetiankh is unpacking your gear in your old room. Thothhotep, I’m afraid you’ll have to sleep aboard my barge. This is a large house, but for the next few days it will be overflowing with guests.”
Huy answered his scribe’s raised eyebrows with a gesture. “I may need you in a while,” he said, and as he spoke, it came to him that Thothhotep had a quality that was rare but prized among scribes: in spite of a personality that was far from lacklustre, she had the unconscious ability to fade into any background so that very quickly one forgot that she was in the room. “Will you be comfortable on the barge?”
She acquiesced coolly. “I shall go at once and set myself up in the cabin, and then return.”
“Thank you, Thothhotep,” he replied formally, with a rush of new respect for this determined little waif, her palette clutched to her skinny bosom and her eyes watchful. She bowed once, swiftly, and walked towards the entrance hall.
Thothmes took Huy’s arm. “Through the garden, a short walk by the river, and you’ll be very pleased with the home I am preparing for Ishat. Then we can go up to my room and talk. It’s so good to have you here with me, Huy. We’ll arrange with Harmose to revisit the school before you go back to Hut-herib. Perhaps, when you and I have finished tramping all over Iunu together, you’ll change your mind about moving back here.”
Huy did not reply. He followed his friend out into the white glare of the spring afternoon.
In spite of the tumbled piles of grey mud bricks everywhere, the churned sand littered with broken pots and discarded whitewash brushes baking in the sun, the architect’s table laden with scrolls and the man’s tools of his trade under the thin shade of a canopy, Huy easily filled in what was yet to come as he gazed at the roofless building and through the doorless aperture to an inner court where four pillars had already been erected and an empty pool waited for water. “My architect has gone for his afternoon sleep,” Thothmes said, “but you can look at the plans later if you like. I wanted a house designed around a central court, with an upper storey also open to the air in the centre. This”—he waved over the dusty muddle—“this will be a garden eventually, with date palms and sycamores and acacia hedges and plenty of flowers. I thought a trellis covered with grapevines leading from the front entrance to the water-steps might be shady and beautiful. What do you think? I’m still waiting for the stonemasons to come and set the watersteps in place. Will she like it, Huy? I’ve ordered a door of cedar inlaid with silver.”
“I think that Ishat is the luckiest woman in Egypt,” Huy replied slowly. “You’re building her a shrine, you know that, don’t you?”
Thothmes looked away. “I never expected to be in love. I expected Father to find me a suitable mate from among our acquaintances. I expected to settle down in peace.” A fly had landed on his jasper-studded belt and was sucking up the salt of his sweat where his taut belly was exposed. He made no move to brush it away; he merely stared at it reflectively. “Love is uncomfortable,” he went on. “It’s like a disease. She fills my mind so that I cannot concentrate on anything else. I don’t notice what I eat or drink. I’m hot somewhere inside myself, but I can’t find the site of the fire. And then, when I am with her, free to touch her, kiss her, I am still in pain because I’m jealous of the sheath that clings so closely to her body, the rings on her fingers. If she smiles at someone else, I want to sulk like a little boy.” Now he turned to look directly into Huy’s face. “Was it like that for you?”
“For me with Anuket? Yes, it was. The burden was heavy, Thothmes, because I could take no freedoms with her as you can with Ishat. None at all. I envy you. For a long time I was very bitter, especially knowing that even if your father had given her to me, the gods would have prevented me from enjoying a full intimacy with her.”
“And now? You’re afraid to see her tomorrow, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I’m afraid that my own flame will leap into life. Time has healed much of me, but not all.” He swung abruptly away. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. Ishat will be more than pleased with her new house. Now, may I go to my room? I want to sleep.”
“Forgive me, Huy.” Thothmes flicked one gold-gripped finger at the fly then batted at it as it rose towards his neck. “I seem to be apologizing to you a great deal, don’t I? But I wanted you to know exactly how I feel towards Ishat, how I shall cherish her and take care of her always, how in giving her up to me you are placing me in your debt for the rest of my life.”
Huy glanced at him curiously. “But Ishat has never been a slave. She was free to choose her future, and she chose to become your wife.”
Thothmes bit his lip. “If you had pressed her to stay with you, she would have denied me. You love her. Yet instead of influencing her decision, you let her go. I’m not stupid. I know what that has cost you.”
“I can bed no woman. I have told you this!” Huy replied harshly. “Only Anuket ate at my vitals. My love for Ishat is different! She deserves something better than the aridity of my company, Thothmes. Now, for the last time, I am content to see her contracted to you and I bear you no ill will. For Set’s sake, let it go!”
Thothmes grimaced. “You’re right. Well, let’s go back now and sleep. I’m glad you think that Ishat will like her house.” They linked arms and, picking their way through the debris, regained Nakht’s green, well-ordered garden.
The meal that evening was a subdued affair. Ptahhotep and the servants were clearly preoccupied with their tasks for the following day. There was no music. Nakht did not appear. Thothmes, Huy, Nasha, and Ishat pushed their low tables close to one another, but their conversation was sporadic. Huy thought that Ishat still looked tired. She told him that she had managed to rest and even sleep a little but the unfamiliar room had disturbed her. Huy himself, after standing for a long time in the middle of the room where he had spent a multitude of nights, had flung himself onto the couch with the same feeling of relief and safety that had always filled him there as a boy. Nakht’s house had been a sanctuary, a place where nothing could reach out to harm him, and where he had slept even more deeply than on his cot in the school cell he had shared with Thothmes. Closing his eyes, he had tumbled into a profound slumber, waking only when Tetiankh leaned over him, a goblet of diluted date syrup and a couple of honey cakes on a tray balanced in his hand.
Now Huy had barely finished his fare when Ptahhotep bent over his shoulder. “Your pardon, Master Huy, but the Governor wishes to see you as soon as possible,” the steward said. Huy nodded, pushed his table away, and rose. Turning, he saw that Thothhotep had also risen from her place behind him, picking up her palette from the tiles as she did so. He did not remember seeing her enter the hall.
Nasha had overheard Ptahhotep. “We want to go on the river in the twilight,” she said, indicating Ishat and Thothmes. “Shall we wait for you, Huy? Unfortunately, Father cannot talk to anyone for very long these days, and I know that he plans to stay on his couch all day tomorrow so that he’ll be strong enough to receive the guests in the evening.”
Ishat looked up sharply then signalled to Iput, hovering by the wall. “You have an interview with Nakht?” she said. “You’ll need me, then. Iput, go and fetch my palette.”
Huy forestalled her. “You are no longer my scribe, Ishat. You have trained Thothhotep well. She can begin her service now.”
Ishat’s expression became mutinous. Half rising, she glared at Huy. I know exactly what you are thinking, he said to her silently. You want to be present to hear the Governor’s words. You want to discuss them with me afterwards as you always did—but, Ishat, everything has changed. It’s time to say farewell to those days. She must have read
something of his thoughts in his eyes, for after a moment she gave one sharp nod and the anger left her face. “So be it,” she whispered, sitting back on her cushion.
Huy smiled at Nasha. “No, don’t wait. Go and enjoy the evening. Thothhotep, come with me.” He was aware of Ishat’s stare as he left the room with Thothhotep at his heels. Truthfully, he would have preferred to have Ishat taking down the words of the coming meeting, but this was as good a moment as any to sever the link of master and scribe between them.
Of course, he did not need to be led to Nakht’s office; he could have walked the interior of this house blindfolded. Yet as he approached Nakht’s door, he faltered, the memory of his last visit springing fresh and terrible into his mind. He had begged to be given Anuket then, begged without dignity, begged like the penniless, desperate peasant that he was, and Nakht had turned him down. Nor would he agree to give Huy a scribe’s position anywhere within his governmental jurisdiction. His refusal to help Huy in any way was entirely unexpected. If Nakht had stepped up to Huy and struck him with his fist, Huy could not have been more shocked. Nakht had been more than a father to Huy, generous and kindly, and Huy had loved him. Thothmes told Huy later he believed that Nakht had not dared to invite the anger of the gods by doing anything that might thwart their plan for Huy’s destiny as their Seer, but the excuse did nothing to ease Huy’s sense of betrayal. As the tall door inlaid with the copper symbols of the Heq-at sepat, Nakht’s responsibility, loomed ahead, Huy saw again the insulting pity in the Governor’s eyes. He took a deep breath and knocked on the smooth cedar. Nakht’s voice bade him enter and he did so, Thothhotep following and softly closing the door behind her.
Huy expected to see the Governor rising from behind the desk that dominated the room, but Nakht was half sitting, half lying on a travelling cot placed between the desk and one of the niche-hollowed walls, propped up with many cushions and draped in a crumpled sheet. A dish containing a half-eaten salad and a full cup of wine sat on a low table beside him. He made no move to rise, but he smiled as Huy bowed and waved him forward. “This way I am able to both conduct the business of the sepat and husband my strength,” he explained as Huy approached him. “It is very good indeed to see you again, Huy. You’ve filled out. You look well.” His voice was thin. Reaching out, he picked up the cup and took a sip of wine. His hand shook.
“It’s a great pleasure to see you again also, noble one,” Huy responded. “I don’t think that you have met my new scribe.” He indicated the girl, who was standing motionless a polite distance away. “This is Thothhotep.”
Nakht’s smile grew wider. He raised his eyebrows as Thothhotep bent respectfully, and in that moment, in spite of the fleshless cheeks, the taut skin stretched over the painfully prominent bones of the Governor’s face, the yellowed eyes, Huy saw the benign features he remembered so well.
“Did you deliberately select another woman to keep your secrets, Huy, or do you simply enjoy mystifying and perhaps even shocking your unsophisticated neighbours? Greetings, Thothhotep.” His glance swept over her and returned to Huy. “I have the AA disease,” he said frankly. “The physicians are helpless against its onslaught, as you must know. I need you to See for me, Huy, and tell me how long I have left. Thothmes will wish to devote himself entirely to his new wife for a while, and besides, he is not quite ready to take my place. His Majesty has agreed to confirm him as Governor of the Heq-at upon my death.” He paused to take a mouthful of wine. “My tomb was finished before my dearest Nefer-Mut died. I look forward to a favourable weighing in the Judgment Hall and a reunion with her. Yet I am not entirely at peace.” He let out a long breath that hollowed the pitiful concavity of his chest even further. “My mind keeps reliving that last time you stood before me here, in my office. It was night then too. I have been wondering if I did you a grave disservice.”
Oh, Nakht, not now! I have been fighting that memory ever since I walked through your door yesterday. Let silence cover it! Let it sink into the mud of the past so that you may die with dignity and I may once again cover it with the blessed little routines of my daily life!
“You did what you believed to be right,” Huy managed huskily. “I could not have been a proper husband to Anuket, although I deceived myself into seeing myself in that position because I had fallen in love with her.”
“Anuket is a poison to any man,” Nakht broke in harshly. “No, I mean that I should have found a place for you within my administration as a scribe, kept you close to us and to Ra’s temple. I am so sorry, Huy. I condemned you to poverty, and if the King had not consulted you on his way into Rethennu, you would be in poverty still. I raised you as a young noble. You were more my son than the son of Hapu. Yet I abandoned you in the end. Forgive me, I beg you.” He had begun to gasp for air.
Huy had listened to him with a mounting distress. Swiftly he went to the cot and, kneeling, took Nakht’s hands in his. They were very cold. “Thothhotep, run and find Nasha and have her send for the physician,” he ordered. “Are you in pain, Governor? What has been prescribed for you?”
The door opened then closed as Thothhotep hurried away.
Nakht grunted. “Anuket’s husband Amunnefer has been sending me poppy. The physician has been mixing it with ground kesso root to heighten its effects. It dulls my thoughts, though, so I try not to take it until I can bear the pain no longer. I am determined to walk among my guests tomorrow. I will take the medicine at the hour of the afternoon sleep and trust it to carry me through until the festivities are over.” Closing his eyes, he lay back on the cushions.
“Nakht, the gods order our lives as they see fit,” Huy said carefully. “If I had not spent many months in this house, I would not have known how to address the titled persons who come to me for healing or scrying, let alone how to engage them in conversation. If you had offered me a position as a scribe here in Iunu, it’s unlikely that I would have come to the attention of the One. You did as the gods wished when you refused my appeals.” The capitulation had cost him a great deal. He had forced the words past the fume of resentment that dried his throat and tightened his jaw. Yet, as they left him, they seemed to take with them some of the agony of that encounter, and he was able to kiss Nakht’s hand with genuine love. “You gave me far more than you ever denied me. I love you so much, my second father.”
Nakht did not open his eyes, but a brief smile flitted across his ravaged face. “And I you, my talented second son,” he murmured.
At that moment the door opened, and Nasha and a stranger came hurrying across the shadowed floor, Thothhotep behind them. “Huy, this is our physician,” Nasha explained. She bent over Nakht. “Talking to Huy is not resting, Father,” she chided him, then stepped back.
Quietly, the physician began to examine Nakht. Huy remained kneeling on the tiles, Nakht’s hand in his. Presently the physician straightened. “You already know that the AA cannot be cured, noble one,” he sighed, “but you will live longer if you remain calm. Do not allow yourself to become agitated. I shall prepare more poppy and kesso for you to drink tonight, and I shall return before dinner tomorrow and give you a weaker dose so that you may enjoy your son’s good fortune.” He spread out his hands. “I wish I could do more.” Bowing, he left.
“I thought you were going boating in the twilight,” Huy said to Nasha.
She nodded. “I decided to let Thothmes and Ishat go alone. Ishat needs to be with someone she’s known for longer than a day. She’s tired. Come and play Dogs and Jackals with me before I go to bed, Huy, and let Father drink his medicine and sleep.”
But Nakht’s grip tightened. “I need Huy for a little longer,” he told her. “Please wait outside the door, Nasha, and take the vial when the physician returns. We must not be disturbed.”
For answer, she leaned down and kissed his forehead.
“See for me now, Huy,” Nakht asked when she had gone.
Huy heard Thothhotep go to the floor just behind him without being told. Her pens rattled, and presently the
tiny sound of her papyrus scraper came and went. Huy sank back to sit cross-legged on the floor, and taking Nakht’s hand in both of his, he closed his eyes. Now, Anubis, he prayed, tell me that this man may be well.
“Well?” The familiar gravelled voice came at once. “Not well as you mortals count the state of your bodies. Governor Nakht will die on the second day of Pakhons, three months from now. The King will send his Vizier and namesake, Amunhotep, to attend the funeral. He is sitting under his sunshade by that rock. He is uncomfortable and sweating. He is not praying for Nakht’s ka. He is thinking about a drink of cool beer.”
There had been no dizziness, no sense of dislocation. Huy found himself standing with a crowd of solemn people on sand under a hot sun. Before him, Nakht’s embalmed and bandaged corpse stood propped beside the entrance to the tomb Huy remembered well, having mourned as Nakht’s wife Nefer-Mut was carried down into its darkness. The Kher-heb, the chief funeral priest, was chanting words from the unrolled scroll in his hands. The sem priest had approached the body and was in the act of touching Nakht’s mouth and eyes with a linen bag that contained pieces of red carnelian, as Huy knew, to restore the colour of health to Nakht’s lips and eyelids. Thothmes, as the Son-Who-Loves, waited behind the man to perform the next ritual. He was weeping silently. Huy turned his head. Nasha had slid her arm through his. She too was crying and clutching a square of damp linen to her face. There was no sign of Anuket.
“Oh yes, she is here.” The harsh tones of the god filled Huy’s mind. “She sits in the shadow cast by her husband’s tent. She is not praying for Nakht’s ka either. She is eyeing the broad shoulders and muscled belly of the sem priest, forbidden fruit indeed, and her own ka is screaming for wine. Has your ka begun to scream yet, Son of Hapu? See to your house!”
The last words were shouted so loudly that Huy started and swung away from Nasha’s grip. They ended on a deep animal wail that set his heart pounding, and as he turned, he saw the hyena. It was perching on a small hillock and staring at him, its yellow eyes slitted against the bright light. As he watched, its mouth opened and its black tongue passed slowly across sharp white teeth. There was something so greedy, so anticipatory, about the motion that a shiver trickled down Huy’s spine. He tensed, fully expecting the beast to rise and come shambling towards him, fuelled by some malevolent purpose. But how can its intention be malicious? Does it not belong in Paradise, in the Beautiful West, where evil does not exist? The hyena hauled itself up and shook, the stiff beige hairs down its back quivering with the movement. Its gaze did not leave Huy’s face. Anubis! Huy cried out silently. Tell me what this means!
Seer of Egypt Page 17