City of the Dead

by Gill, Anton

  ‘So, what would you advise?’ Horemheb said finally.

  ‘Ankhsenpaamun could pose a threat to the nation. If a core of resistance built up round her and there were civil war, some of our forces would have to be diverted from the Delta, and the risk of a Hittite invasion would be increased.’ Kenamun chose his words carefully. Behind them was the simple message: kill the queen. But Kenamun knew that, as he progressed up the ladder of power, such brutal plain speaking had become increasingly abhorrent to the general. Indeed, his own old title was no longer pleasing to him, and he preferred these days to be known by the last of the many that he had prevailed upon Tutankhamun to bestow on him: Presider over the Two Lands, Great Lord of the People.

  ‘But if the threat is removed before the burial of the pharaoh, will that not look displeasing? The priesthood is restless - they are conservative and adapt slowly; but I haven’t the time to march at their pace.’

  ‘The king’s burial is still many weeks hence. The embalmers will need another forty days to prepare him, and that is the one part of the process that cannot be hurried. Nor would it be seemly to do so.’

  ‘Then we have an insoluble problem. For that time gives the queen an opportunity to organise.’

  ‘Alone she is powerless.’

  ‘But is she alone?’

  ‘We believe her to be,’ lied Kenamun, not wanting his own failure to infiltrate Ankhsenpaamun’s household adequately to reach Horemheb’s ears. The queen’s intelligence service was better than he dared admit to the general, perhaps because it was so small and tightly-knit. Half the information he fed Horemheb on was invented.

  ‘So there is no danger?’ persisted the general.

  ‘There is always danger in not making sure of a thing as soon as you can,’ replied Kenamun cautiously. ‘Especially if the stability of the Black Land is at stake. You rescued it after the fall of the Great Criminal. I do not want to see that work go for nothing.’

  ‘But we have sealed all the cracks in our security.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Whatever suspicions Horaha had have died with him.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kenamun, more doubtfully. ‘I still think I should interview the daughter.’

  ‘She is not a danger,’ said Horemheb loftily. ‘What could she do? In any case we may safely leave her to Merinakhte. He is pleased with his reward for removing Horaha?’

  ‘He seems to be.’

  ‘Well, whether he is or not, he is our man now. He has bloodied his hands for us, and owes us house and career. Whether he can take the girl too — if he wants to — is his own affair. It does not affect us either way.’

  Kenamun spread his hands. ‘As you please. But what of Queen Ankhsenpaamun?’

  Horemheb frowned. ‘I will give her thought. But I do not see the urgency you seem to.’

  ‘Be advised - ’

  Horemheb looked at him. ‘I will seek advice when I need it,’ he said, and turned back to his papers dismissively. Kenamun withdrew, but as soon as he was alone, Horemheb found that he could concentrate no longer. The hieroglyphs danced on the page, making no sense, and for no reason a chill shook him.

  He kept seeing the queen’s face in his heart. Kenamun’s words stayed with him, and he was troubled.

  NINE

  He had decided to visit her at the busiest time of day, when traders and servants were making their way to and from the pharaoh’s palace, crowding the compound, chatting and bickering in its courtyards. Dressed in a shabby kilt, his beard unshaved, dirt from the riverbank rubbed on to his face, Huy’s stocky figure disappeared in the mob of people. The difficulty was getting close to her, but the queen was expecting him, and once she had recognised him she had one of her body servants guide him through back corridors to a small room near the top of the building. There the man shaved Huy, applied make-up, and dressed his hair hastily, and gave him a clean tunic and kilt before leading him through the kitchens and then down through further corridors to another room, windowless and crammed with squat red columns, where he left him. No one who had seen the scruffy lighterman enter the palace would have associated him with the shaved and perfumed courtier who now stood waiting for Ankhsenpaamun.

  She did not keep him waiting long, and when she arrived it was in haste. She swept aside formality, and he saw that though her face was worried, her eyes were clear.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  She looked at him. ‘I have no doubt you know that my chief huntsman was arrested. They tell me he was plotting against me. Do you know what really happened?’

  ‘He is dead,’ said Huy. ‘But I am sure that the last thing in his heart was betrayal.’

  ‘I agree. But there is something else. My little sisters have been sent to the Northen Capital. Ay tells me it is for them to represent the pschent for the Opet festival there; but it is the first I have heard of the Northern Capital celebrating the Opet festival as well as here.’

  ‘The net is closing,’ said Huy.

  ‘There is more still,’ the queen continued, pacing up and down, hands fluttering, unable to stay still for a moment. ‘Ay has repeated his request for a marriage.’

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘I asked for time.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘That I had none. He gave me five days.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Nothing.An empty threat.’

  ‘What will you tell him when the time is up?’

  ‘That I would rather die than marry him.’

  Huy looked at her. ‘You must leave the Southern Capital.’

  ‘No. I will see my husband buried.’

  ‘You owe it to him not to join him in the grave. It is not a responsibility that is yours alone any more. You carry a god within you.’

  ‘A god should be able to take care of himself.’

  ‘When they are in us they need help. Their power is limited by the frame they inhabit.’

  The queen was silent, but she continued to look obstinate. ‘Do not teach me my duty,’ she said finally; and Huy knew that he had won.

  ‘We must make plans quickly,’ he said cautiously, after a pause.

  ‘If I survive, and if I find that the king has not, after all, been given the full honour due to him, and if one day I have power to avenge the indignity, I will have horses drag you five times found the limits of the city,’ she told him icily.

  ‘There must be a boat. Not one of the falcon ships. I doubt if we could trust the sailors anyway,’ said Huy, having shown her with his eyes that he had taken note of her threat.

  ‘It is too much that I must flee my own city like a criminal,’ she said. ‘Perhaps if I consent to go - and not return - they will let me do so according to my rank.’

  ‘No,’ said Huy. ‘They will not.’

  ‘Ay is my own grandfather!’

  ‘We must find a boat,’ repeated Huy. in the hands of someone we can trust.’

  ‘Who is there?’ said the queen.

  The embalmers had told Senseneb that her father would be ready for the great journey a month after the Opet festival - which still gave her fifty days in the house she had grown up in. Nevertheless, she had started to clear it, parting with most, regretfully bidding farewell to chairs, stools, papyrus rolls, tables, lamps, that she had known all her life. The things she could not bear to part with, Horaha’s medical equipment; the little statue of Imhotep — her father’s hero, the chief minister of the pharaoh Djoser and architect of the first great pyramid at Sakkara over a thousand years earlier; the images of the goddess Hathor, and of the gods Hor-Pa-Khred and Thoth, together with the best furniture and the most loved and important scrolls, she arranged to have shipped south to Napata. Although her future was uncertain, excitement and even pleasure had invaded the sadness and pessimism which had cast a shadow over her since her father’s death. If she could not avenge it, she thought, she could perhaps at least vindicate his life. And perhaps - though this was a hope she did not dare bring f
ully into her heart yet — her own future would not now be as bleak as she had assumed. She tried not to let herself think about Huy, though already she had started to call him her brother to herself. Her winged heart flew away from her to him, and her body became strong and fluid, like the River, when he came into her thoughts.

  Unconsciously, she had begun to take leave of the house already. Once a room was emptied, its character departed immediately, and it was as if it had never had anything to do with her life, or only formed part of a half-remembered dream. Soon the whole place would be like that. What she would regret most would be the garden. Horaha and her mother had spent years creating it, and the medicinal herbs which grew there were thought by some to be the most important collection in the Black Land. As for the animals, the cats and the geese, Hapu’s family would take them.

  Senseneb was engaged in clearing a room when she saw Merinakhte standing in the doorway. She stopped what she was doing and looked at him, but said nothing, waiting for him to speak first. He held his body awkwardly, his grey eyes shifting uneasily.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he said at last.

  She resumed her activity without answering.

  ‘Don’t you have servants to do that?’

  ‘I have paid some off. Only Hapu is coming away with me. And there are things I like to do myself. In any case, you should be grateful.’

  Merinakhte looked worried, it is not my fault that I have inherited your father’s job.’

  ‘No,’ she replied evenly, it is very fortunate.’

  Not catching her irony, he said earnestly, ‘Perhaps it was something decreed by the gods.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes.’ He pursued the idea eagerly. It seemed that now he had plucked up the courage to speak, the words would come tumbling out of him in a flood. ‘Where are you going?’

  For some reason her heart told her not to tell him. ‘I haven’t decided yet. Perhaps to the Northern Capital.’

  ‘Doesn’t your father have a house somewhere?’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘He mentioned it once.’

  ‘I haven’t had time to go through all his papers.’

  ‘I could help you.’

  She looked at him. Everything about his body was too long, except his breast and thighs, which were flabby. His tiny eyes were like the points of spears in his pale face. He kept staring at a point below her waist, and his long fingers clasped and unclasped.

  ‘No,’ she said.

  He was silent after that, but did not leave his position by the door. He tapped one of his feet up and down, twisting it in and out of his sandal in a manner so violent that for a moment she thought it must be uncontrollable.

  She tried to ignore him, biting her lip, praying that he would go; but he stayed, staring. Where, she wondered, had Hapu got to? He had gone to take water for the garden out of the well with the shaduf, but he must have been finished by now.

  It was becoming impossible for her even to pretend to work.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked finally, straightening and looking at him. She found that she could not bear to for more than a few seconds together.

  ‘You don’t have to go,’ he said, avoiding her eyes.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You don’t have to go.’ He allowed his eyes to meet hers briefly, to check how this comment had gone down, before they darted away again.

  ‘There’s nothing for me here any more.’

  ‘There could be.’

  She looked at him more carefully. He was trying to smile, achieving a sneer. His arms were folded defensively across his narrow chest, each bony hand grasping a pale forearm. He was like something that lived at the dark bottom of ponds, eating whatever sank there.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Her scalp crawled. A horrible realisation was coming into her heart.

  ‘You could stay in this house. With me.’ Now the words were out he seemed almost to regret having spoken them. One hand uneasily scratched its attendant forearm. She noticed that the nails were dirty and their pressure left a livid mark on the skin. Despite herself, she imagined that hand on her body, and felt the moisture of fear and disgust on her palms and forelip. But she had to say something. He was waiting for an answer.

  ‘What?’ she managed finally, hoping that she kept the incredulity out of her voice.

  ‘With me.As my wife.’ The hand detached itself from its anchor on his forearm and made an impotent, deprecating gesture in the air. For a ghastly moment she thought she might laugh. She managed to control the hysterical impulse. Above all she had to play safe.

  ‘What about it? Will you be my wife?’ blurted Merinakhte awkwardly.

  ‘I need time — ’

  ‘I’ve had an eye on you for years. Ever since you came back here. I don’t mind if you’ve been used once.’

  Her eyes widened in anger. ‘What?’

  ‘I know why your husband sent you back. But children never appealed to me.’

  Her head spun. ‘I think you should leave.’

  He folded his arms again, leaning insolently on the door frame. Now that he had embarked on his proposal, his assurance was growing. ‘Not without an answer.’

  ‘The answer is no.’

  Merinakhte’s lips tightened, and the veins at his temples pulsed. Then he controlled his anger, and whined, ‘Please consider me, at least. Think, you could stay here. This would be your house. I’d let you do as you liked. You’d be mistress here. You could entertain my friends.’

  ‘No.’

  His eyes almost vanished into his face, if you leave this house, no one will look after your garden. Who will there be? I have no time for such things. It will have to be burned out and paved over.’

  She looked at him. ‘This is my house for another fifty days. You are trespassing in it. Leave now or I will have Hapu throw you out.’

  He smiled nastily. ‘Now, that would be a mistake.’

  ‘Get out!’

  He spread his hands. ‘Just a moment, please. There is something else you might like to consider before you do that.’

  She made herself breathe evenly. ‘What is that?’

  The unpleasant grin remained. ‘I saw you. Thrashing around, grabbing each other. He took you like a dog takes a bitch.’ The voice was quiet, but its edge was only just this side of insanity.

  She looked at him, unable to speak.

  ‘You and Huy. Oh yes, I know his name. What’s your game with that little shit?’

  ‘What -?’

  ‘Or is he just servicing you? Must have built up, all those years without any.’

  The fury broke over her like a wave, hollowing her stomach and making her head light. Immediately, cold calm followed. She knew without any doubt that as soon as it was possible she would kill this man, neatly and quickly.

  He caught her thought and half laughed, half snarled. ‘I’d come over to talk to you and I heard a noise. Like pigs rutting. I watched through the window. I was quiet, but I needn’t have bothered. You two were so hard at it I could have walked through the room and you wouldn’t have noticed.’ He paused, letting the words sink in. ‘But it doesn’t matter. I’ll still have you. I enjoyed watching. Who knows? If you like it I might set you at it with some of the servants now and then. I’m sure that’d be the kind of entertainment my friends would appreciate.’

  ‘Why don’t you crawl back under your stone?’

  ‘I could have told Kenamun about you,’ continued Merinakhte. ‘It’s probably my duty, especially if humping each other isn’t all you are doing. But I love you, Senseneb, so I thought I’d be merciful. I’d do anything to keep you, my dear. And be sure of this. If I can’t have you, no one else will.’

  Again she could not answer. Her throat was too try to admit speech. Her Ka seemed to float above her. She watched the scene from outside herself as if it were a dream. She tried to send a thought from her heart to Huy, but the way was blocked.

  There was a noise from beyond the ro
om. Hapu was returning from the garden.

  Merinakhte eased himself away from the door jamb. ‘Think about what I have said. I am not a monster. But I will not wait long. I will be back for an answer soon.’ He smiled. ‘I am sure you will see sense. Despite the pleasures of the Fields of Aarru, we all prefer the short life we know to the eternity we do not.’

  He left then, idly, not hurrying but not looking back. Senseneb’s heart stampeded over possibilities. One thing was certain: Merinakhte was wrong. If she could not destroy him, she would prefer to risk Osiris’s anger by killing herself than face a known hell on earth.

  Huy had returned to his house to find Ineny waiting for him outside, idling among the handful of stallholders who set up a morning market twice a week in the little square. He greeted Huy brusquely, and hurried him towards the litter which was waiting to take them to Ay. For the second time that day, Huy set off for the palace compound. Huy noticed that Ineny was reserved once again. He was cordial, but no more than polite, and appeared disinclined to take the scribe into his confidence.

  Huy did not have an opportunity to consider this return to reserve, as Ay was waiting for him in a greater state of agitation and impatience than Huy would have believed possible.

  ‘You must tell me what you know now. Now!’

  ‘I do not have the whole picture yet.’

  ‘Never mind that!’ Ay leant across the table between them, his arms trembling as they supported his body, his eyes showing white under the iris. ‘I want all that you have got. I was a fool to let you have so much time.’

  ‘What has happened?’

  ‘Never mind. It does not concern you. An avenue has closed. That is all you need to know.’