by Gill, Anton
The man was a husk - skin dried, eyes gone, mouth open, the cavities, cleaner beetles were busily at work. He might ave been caught in the act of swimming, the raised arm Caching diagonally back from his shoulder. Nehesy scraped away further, while the dogs watched with detached, intelligent interest. The hair of the corpse was dark and choked with sand, a forest in which small creatures crept. It stared at them forlornly from its eyeless orbits.
There was an untidy wound in his ribcage near his heart - someone had slashed at him from horseback. In his other hand he grasped a small linen bag. Huy took it and opened it. It contained five kite.
‘A hard fee to resist,’ said Huy. ‘Your tracker?’
‘Yes. But why leave him here?’
‘There probably wasn’t time to take him with them. How would they have done it? A quick burial. It’s far enough away. No one would have expected anyone to come up here again within days — and with dogs.’
‘But why kill him?’
‘That’s another question,’ said Huy. ‘Maybe he changed his mind, decided to try to warn the king. Perhaps there was a panic. Perhaps they never intended to let him live.’
‘And why leave the money?’
‘He’d earned his fee. Take it back, and his Ka would have sent a ghost after it.’
Nehesy nodded.
They reburied the remains of the tracker, as deep as they could, and Nehesy left the wooden shovel stuck in the mound above him as a marker. Huy recited what protecting words he could remember from The Book of the Dead:
‘I am yesterday and I know tomorrow.
I am able to be born a second time...
I rise up as a great hawk going out of its egg.
I fly away as a hawk whose back is four paces long...
I am the snake, the son of the earth, multiplying
The years I lay myself down, and am brought forth every day.
I am the snake, the son of the earth, at the ends
Of the earth. I lay myself down and am brought forth
Fresh, renewed, grown young again every day...
I am the crocodile presiding over fear.
I am the god-crocodile at the arrival of his soul among the shades.
I am the god-crocodile brought in for destruction.
The sun was already above the distant hills. They climbed into the chariot and returned to the city.
FIVE
Huy was standing in a white room with a broad balcony facing north. It gave a view over the sullen rooftops of the city and, beyond them, the fragile green strip which defined the course of the River seemed to stretch to infinity. The cool wind blew on his face.
Apart from the white, the colours in the room were gold and pale blue, and they were used sparingly, decorating the tops of the columns and a frieze of stylised leaves and boughs which ran around the walls just below the ceiling. The furniture was simple in design, but it was all of blackwood decorated with gold leaf. There were two chairs, a couch and a low table. On the table, the wine jug and beakers were of gold, and near them a silver-gilt bowl contained expensive d‘epeh fruit.
Awe mingled with amusement in Huy’s heart. He had told Nehesy that he was working for the queen - a lie of convenience to get him what he wanted; and now that lie was about to be turned into truth. The slight creature sitting at the table, a brown slip of a girl not sixteen, dressed in a plain cream robe edged with silver, her dark hair adorned with a circlet of thin gold on the front of which the uræus reared, looked at him nervously. In the course of their conversation she had let her regal dignity slip as she had relaxed, unburdening herself of fear.
‘Do you think it is a judgement upon us by the Aten?’ she asked timidly.
‘The Aten does not judge. It only exists passively, to be made use of by us. Just as a cat or a hawk has no power over us except that which exists in our hearts.’
‘But we turned from it. We changed our names.’
‘The king ceased to be the Living Image of Aten, and became the Living Image of Amun. If there are gods at all, I think they are above the tricks we play to stay alive.’
‘But if there is no principle, what is the point of existence?’
‘There has to be belief to fuel principle, or it has no point itself. And does existence need to be justified? You were - forgive me _ both too young to have made up your minds.’
‘Whatever the reason, it has cost me dear.’
‘The most important thing now is to make sure the little god inside you does not come to harm.’
‘Or goddess.’
‘Quite,’ replied Huy, pleased to see a revival of spirit.
‘You may sit down if you wish,’ said Ankhsenpaamun. She had been fortunate to inherit more of her mother’s features than her father’s, though his lips and high cheekbones had come down to her. Her eastern eyes were large and dark; mature and candid.
Huy, trembling at such informality in front of his queen, did so.
‘You wonder why I sent for you.’
‘Yes.’
‘You have friends. A former friend, Taheb. The shipowner.’
‘I remember her.’
‘I am sure you do,’ replied the queen, with the faintest hint of humour in her voice. ‘I think you were close once.’
‘Yes.’
‘I want you to find out what happened to the king. It will be difficult for me to help you; but I can pay you. Only your work must be done secretly.’
Huy was silent for a moment. He asked himself whether he could tell her that he had already been engaged on similar terms y Ay. He wondered how much deeper the water would get.
‘You have your own resources.’
She made a gesture of impatience. ‘I can trust very few people. Even when my lord was alive we were virtual prisoners here. And that is the other thing I want you to look after: my safety.’
‘Is there any reason to think you are in danger?’
She looked at him. ‘Do not play the fool to draw me out, I carry the succession in my birth-cave. I carry that which will thwart the ambitions of Horemheb and my grandfather. The only difference between them is that Ay might not kill me though he would not baulk at drowning the child.’
‘I had heard that your grandfather had other plans.’
Her mouth curved in a bitter smile. ‘To marry me? That would not save my child; he would try to get one of his own on me. But I doubt if he will dare propose marriage in the face of Horemheb. He would have to destroy the general first, and I am not sure that he has that much power.’ She paused a moment, looking inside her heart. ‘But on the other hand Horemheb has declared his ambition by marrying my aunt. The race for the succession has started.’
‘Are you a competitor?’
‘You are a clever man, Huy. But I know how hollow the feeling is when you sit on the Golden Chair. My ambition is humbler: it is to survive. One day, perhaps, Ay and Horemheb will destroy each other. Then there will be a place for my child. But the first thing is to make sure it lives to see that day.’
She looked at him again, childish uncertainty creeping behind the sophistication in her eyes. ‘I have already been too frank. But you have to start trusting somewhere.’ She paused, still hesitating, and bit her lip. ‘There is a plan. You cannot be a party to it. Even before my husband was killed his successor had been selected.’
‘Who is he?’
‘Prince Zannanzash.’
‘Of the Hittites?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’ Huy found it hard to conceal his consternation.
‘Their armies threaten us. The marriage would mean unity. ‘
‘But who would control the Black Land? Would you be pharaoh, or consort?’
‘He would be consort.’
Huy hesitated before replying. ‘How far is this plan advanced?’
‘I have sent a messenger to him. Soon he will set out for the Southern Capital.’
‘With an army?’
‘With an escort. He will come in
peace. I do this for my dead husband. He wished to ensure peace in the Black Land. To block my grandfather and Horemheb.’
For how long, thought Huy, but said nothing. Instead, storing the knowledge up, and wondering who else had it, he decided on a different tack. ‘Have you seen Nezemmut since her wedding? Talked to her?’
‘No. She lived so long under my mother’s shadow that she was a woman before her sun rose. Now she has her moment of glory in the face of Ra. I am an uncomfortable reminder of her past.’
Huy, bowing first, drank wine. He sank his head on his chest. ‘I want to help you,’ he said.
‘There was a time when I could command. Now I must ask. But if a time of power came again — ’ She broke off.
‘I want to help you,’ repeated Huy, formally. ‘But I must tell you that I already have a commission in this matter.’
She looked at him, and her expression contained fear, anger, defiance and hope.
Ay has already asked me to find out what happened.’
Has he?’ Her voice gave nothing away; but it did not save from the candour of her eyes.
Huy told her what he had already found out, keeping back y those details which might injure her. He left the palace at nightfall, glad that the protagonists in the drama where he played a small role were too busy watching each other to pay much attention to him.
Meanwhile, Ineny had done his work well, and arranged an interview with Ay. The old man did not begrudge this. He struck Huy as one who would do anything without complaint even to the injury of his self-esteem, if it furthered his ambition. He reminded the scribe of those people who keep the rudder of their life-ship under a firm hand, always looking towards a distant but fixed goal. At the age of twenty they know what they wish to have achieved by fifty. They set sail, and in due time they arrive at the distant port. Huy did not know whether such people were to be envied or pitied.
‘I need to talk to the doctors who examined him.’
Ay’s expression did not change. ‘Why? Is there doubt that it was an accident?’
‘There is some.’
Now the old man looked at him keenly. ‘What doubt?’
‘I am collecting information. But I must speak to the doctors if I am to give you a case.’
‘The doctors may be Horemheb’s men.’
‘Horemheb is not so powerful that he has everybody in his pocket. He cannot yet do precisely as he pleases.’
These words gratified Ay. ‘That is true. It is as bad to overestimate as to underestimate,’ he said. Huy wondered what the old man’s assessment of him was. He knew that he was involved in what was, for him, a dangerous game; but he was in no doubt of where his loyalties lay. He did not care for Ay or Horemheb, or anyone who took it that a country was merely an accessory of their own personality, an ornament for the overweening little god within them. He would have liked to see both these jockeying men devoured by crocodiles. But in truth, he knew that one of them would soon be pharaoh.
As he left, Ineny gave him the names of the two doctors. Both were high officials at the House of Healing, though twenty years separated them. The younger was in his twenties; the older, close to fifty. Huy decided to visit the younger man first.
Merinakhte was from the south. He had the tall, lean built of a desert dweller, a sour mouth and dry, professional eyes.
He received Huy in a low, dark room on the ground floor of the House of Healing. The weather had turned humid, and Huy, who suffered badly when the atmosphere was moist, was painfully aware of how much he was sweating in the heat. He was dressed in a plain kilt and a simple, light headdress, but nevertheless he could feel the water run from under his hair down his neck, and gather round his waist, trickling down his legs.
He was equally aware of the disdain with which Merinakhte regarded him. The young doctor did his best to disguise this, though his own arrogance and self regard would not let him succeed entirely. He remained dry and cool - bloodless as a lizard. Huy had no doubt that he deliberately interviewed people in this room, where the worst effects of the heat were intensified, to put them at a disadvantage from which he did not suffer himself.
‘You come from Ay?’
‘Indirectly. His office started the inquiry I am following up.’
Merinakhte frowned. ‘But there is an official investigation into the king’s death. I have told them all I found at the examination.’
‘We are working in tandem with the official inquiry. A method of cross-checking our information,’ lied Huy, praying that the doctor would not cross-check himself. It seemed unlikely. The man had climbed too high too young to be anything other than a political appointee, and as such he would be careful not to tread on the toes of any potential master. Even if Horemheb had put him where he was, he would still not feel confident enough to defy any emissary of Ay. Huy wondered bow many people like Merinakhte there were in the Southern Capital now — little people who had climbed on to one or other of the emmer-carts of the two men now in contention for the Golden Chair. No voices, he reflected, had been raised on behalf of the unborn god-king beginning to form inside the queen. Even , e gods of the city, massive and enigmatic in their solid temples, had remained discreetly silent.
‘You were the first to see the king after his accident: asked Huy.
‘No. I only saw him after he was brought back to the city. ‘
‘How long was it since his death when you saw him?’
‘Not long at all. It was early morning still. They brought him directly here.’
‘And what was the cause of death?’
‘Surely you must know that,’ snapped Merinakhte.
‘I know what the wound was. How do you think it was caused?’ replied Huy evenly.
‘An accidental blow.’
‘He must have been hit by something sharp and solid?’
‘I don’t know what it is you want me to say, but there is no question of its being anything other than an accident, Merinakhte’s voice was still aggressive, though an element of caution had crept in.
‘Did you see the chariot?’
‘Why would that have been necessary?’
Huy paused. ‘Do you think, then, that he might have struck his head on part of the chariot, or its equipment, as he fell from it?’
‘That is obvious. Really I do not see the point of this insulting cross-questioning. My reputation is a high one. How do you think I became a deputy-governor of the House of Healing?’ Huy spread his hands, deprecatingly. ‘I merely follow orders, he said in a manner designed to be irritating.
‘Ask any of my colleagues. They will tell you the same. Merinakhte became conciliatory. ‘Ask Horaha. He conducted the examination with me.’
‘I intend to.’
‘Good.’
They glared at each other for a moment, Merinakhte still unsure. Huy could imagine the message speeding to Horemheb as soon as he had left. He wondered if the general would take any action, but felt moderately secure in his own unimportance. Merinakhte would describe him as ‘a messenger purporting to come from Ay’, or in similar terms. Horemheb would wonder at that, and get his spies to investigate further. Ay’s household would be ready to confuse them.
‘One last thing,’ said Huy.
‘Yes?’
‘Whom did you report to?’
Merinakhte allowed himself a superior smile. ‘Are you really from Ay? You seem remarkably ill informed. Do you have any written authorisation?’
‘You’re leaving it a little late to ask for that,’ retorted Huy. ‘The degree of your co-operation has been noted.’ With that, he turned on his heel, inwardly content at the insecurity he had sown.
He left the House of Healing and made his way out of the main courtyard, turning right and heading towards the little compound set among dom palms where the doctors’ houses were arranged in neat rows, separated by tidy gardens, each with its own containing wall and central fishpond. The shady streets which divided them were swept and clean, and mingled with the pleasi
ng smell of dust and distant spices which hung over most of the city apart from the dirty, cluttered harbour quarter, there was the scent of safflowers.
The building he was looking for stood on its own at the end of a row, on a corner where two streets met. He knocked at a door painted a dull red, set into a white, plastered wall, over whose top oleander clambered, scattering it untidily with pale pink flowers.
The door was opened to him by a house servant who ushered him into a large garden and asked him to wait. The house, raised on a platform against possible flood from the River, which ran close by, was tall and white, and partly hidden behind the cypress tress which had been planted along the edge of the rectangular pool. Two gardeners were busy, one watering a large kitchen garden, the other, half hidden, thinning out an enormous bank of blue and yellow flowers which rose against e inner side of the street wall. The lattice windows of the main reception room were set high in the house, and above them rose the two vents to catch the north wind. It was a bigger place than most of the others in the compound. Huy noticed that the interior doorposts were set with lapis lazuli.
A pair of ro geese waddled over curiously from the direction of the pool to look at him. As they did so, their owner appeared in the doorway of the house.
Horaha came slowly across the garden to meet him, leaning heavily on a blackwood stick. He wore no headdress, and his bald head was bronzed by the sun. He was dressed in a calf-length pleated kilt and a short upper robe with half-sleeves, from which wiry arms projected, ending in hands that seemed too big for them, with long, agile fingers. A high wooden sole had been attached to the sandal he wore on the foot of his bad leg, which protruded, withered and thin, from below the hem of the kilt. Huy, having noticed it, quickly withdrew his gaze and did not look in its direction again. He had always been careful in matters of everyday courtesy.