City of the Dead

by Gill, Anton

  Nubenehem was more than a friend. She had been Huy’s accomplice, provider and, now and then, confessor. But he had never begged a favour like the one he asked now.

  The idea seemed ramshackle, even to him; but with Senseneb’s medical skill, and Nubenehem’s limitless contacts in the harbour quarter, it might work.

  The fat Nubian was dealing with a client, a spindly young man who stood by nervously while his equally spindly father negotiated for a girl to initiate his son. When the youth saw Huy he turned away and studied the wall behind him with great attention.

  His father was trying to beat Nubenehem’s price down. ‘But you want a good girl,’ she was saying. ‘By the gods, if you set him off with a cut-rate one, what kind of impression is he going to have of women?’

  ‘I won’t pay more than one piece.’

  She spread her hands, a comical expression of distress covering her suffocating features. ‘We don’t have any girls for under one kitë. That’s our lowest rate.’ She appeared to consider, catching Huy’s eye. ‘Look, I’ll tell you what we could do. Little Kafy is between clients — well, she’s not so little these days, but she’s had plenty of experience — and I could let him have her for half an hour now for one and a half kitë of silver. The gentleman who’s just come in knows her. He’ll vouch for her.’

  After the matter had been settled and Kafy had been summoned for the father’s approval, draping her ample body round the apprehensive boy before leading him off, with his watchful father in attendance, into the brothel’s interior, Nubenehem turned to Huy.

  ‘Do I recognise you?’

  ‘A moment ago you did.’

  ‘Huy.’

  ‘Am I that much of a stranger?’

  ‘If all my clients were like you I wouldn’t be here any more.’

  ‘I’m here to ask you something.’

  ‘I’m relieved. For just a moment I thought you might have missed me. Did you see how fat Kafy’s become? She eats to console herself. She misses you.’

  ‘Will you help me?’

  Nubenehem gave him what passed for a smile: the folds around her mouth arranged themselves more comfortably. ‘You know me. If you pay me, I’ll help you.’

  Huy licked his lips.

  ‘That difficult, is it?’ asked Nubenehem.

  ‘I need a body.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A corpse.A girl’s dead body.’

  Nubenehem half rose, despite herself. ‘Now I know you’ve gone mad.’

  ‘Can you get one?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It is very important.’

  Nubenehem looked at him. ‘I can get you all the live girls you want. But when they’re dead, they need a little peace.’

  ‘This one will have peace. She will get a better burial than she would ever have dreamed of, and her Ka will live in the valley.’

  Now Nubenehem sat up. ‘What?’

  ‘I need a dead body,’ repeated Huy. ‘A girl who looks like Queen Ankhsenpaamun. Have you seen her? Do you know what she looks like?’

  ‘I have seen her. But what you are asking is impossible. Sure People die, young people die, young girls die; but not to order. When do you need it anyway?’

  ‘Now.’

  ‘Be serious.’

  ‘Within the next two days.’

  ‘I asked you to be serious.’

  ‘She need not be identical. People change in death. But she must bear a good passing resemblance. So that with make-up we can disguise her as the queen.’

  Nubenehem said nothing for a moment. She looked inwards. From the depths of the house beyond came a burst of music, played badly on a lute, and a theatrical squeal of pleasure. ‘What are you doing, Huy?’

  ‘I cannot tell you, and you would not want to know.’

  ‘You are right, I would not.’ She paused again. ‘Are you sure you are not flying too high at last?’

  ‘It is like being a child on a swing,’ he replied, it goes up and up, forwards and back, and usually when it is too high you can stop it by ceasing to use your body as a pendulum. The swing that I am on has its ropes attached to the sky, and it has pulled me further and further, higher and higher, until I can look down and see the whole earth beneath me. And I cannot stop it, Nubenehem. All I can do to get back to safety is jump off.’

  ‘And break your neck?’

  ‘There is that risk. But there is no choice.’

  Nubenehem was silent again, but not for long.

  ‘I will help you.’ For a moment Huy thought her look was sympathetic; but then the craftiness crept back into her eyes, it will cost you plenty; I have no idea if I can find what you want, and I do not know what excuse I can find to stop tongues blabbing. Fortunately in this part of town death is frequent and the population shifts.’ She looked up at him. ‘I need some money now.’

  Huy opened his purse. ‘How much?’

  Once he had concluded his business, he crossed the square quickly to the drinking house and ordered a jar of fig liquor and a bowl of sunflower seeds. He found a place on a bench and squeezed into it, his back to the wall, looking round the small plain room at his companions. They were all locals, some of them known to him, and he had lived in the quarter long enough not to be an object of curiosity for them.

  He also needed to think about how he was going to finance the queen’s escape without her co-operation. He doubted if Ay would underwrite the hire of a boat and Nubenehem’s fee completely. He drank some of the liquor. It was poorly made and scorched his throat. Perhaps he would have to take Ay further into his confidence.

  Much later, and still uncertain, he made his way back to his house.

  He had reached the edge of the square before he realised that something was wrong. He stood still, in the shadow of the nearest building. Some of the market traders had not dismantled their tumbledown stalls, and he looked in their direction. From a bundle of abandoned sacking which had contained fruit, first the snout and then the body of a large black rat emerged. Satisfied that all was well, it waddled across the centre of the square. Huy followed it with his eyes until it disappeared into the shadow of the opposite wall. Still Huy waited, alert as a fox in open desert, but nothing moved.

  Finally, he started on his way again, but, lacking the assurance of the rat, he skirted the walls until he reached his door. There was still nothing, and there was nothing when he went in; but his unease did not leave him. Quietly he climbed the narrow steps that led up to the bedroom, but everything was as he had left it. He descended again and made his way through the main room to the bathroom at the back, where he saw that he had not refilled the wooden water bucket. The room, and the small courtyard at the back, were deserted.

  He returned to the front of the house, but he had begun to relax, and he did not see the knife soon enough. It sliced upwards, cutting his cheek to the bone, which stopped the blade just below his left eye. Gasping, he pulled backwards, aware how the liquor had slowed him. Blood filled his mouth and he choked on it. His eyes watered so that he could not focus on the lean figure in front of him.

  ‘Hello, Huy,’ said Kenamun. The knife plunged forwards again, but Huy managed to shrink back and it cut air.

  ‘You shit; you nearly destroyed me,’ said Kenamun, breathing hard. Huy noticed that, and wondered how fit the man was. His actions were fast enough, certainly. He tried to reply, but the blood that kept pouring into his mouth would not let him. He risked drowning in it, he knew. He made himself breathe through his nose but the knife had cut into the back of it and now his nostrils filled with blood too. He spat out a beakerful and gulped air.

  Kenamun must have seen what a mess his victim was in because he relaxed, straightening and holding the knife slack. He pushed Huy gently in the chest with the flat of his hand. Huy staggered back a pace into the bathroom, but kept his balance.

  ‘You are dying,’ said Kenamun. He pushed Huy again, harder. Spitting and gulping, Huy fell back against the wall, his arms sprawling, his hands grabbing f
or support as he slid to the floor.

  Kenamun leant over him. Huy could see the grinning face, the pencil beard, through a haze of blood, i think you have been getting ideas above your station, Huy,’ he said, if Ay’s fat little servant hadn’t got greedy your little bit of palace intrigue would have cost me my neck. It’s all right now, that’s why I’m here; I’ve been sent to kill you. But first I think you need cutting down to size.’

  The fingers of Huy’s right hand had found the handle of the wooden bucket. If he had remembered to fill it it would have been too heavy to lift. Realising that Kenamun was enjoying his moment too much, he filled his lungs with one more large breath for the effort and lifted the bucket, hurling it through the air at the end of his arm. Its copper-bound side caught Kenamun on the side of the head and Huy heard bone split. He felt rather than saw the man fall, and heard the clatter of the knife as it hit the stone bathing platform. Blood filled his universe. He struck out blindly, defensively, as he brought himself to his knees, but connected with nothing but the air. Crawling forwards, not losing his grip on the bucket, he reached out with his left hand in the direction he had sensed Kenamun fall.

  He felt the cloth of his robe and then he had his hand on the man’s chest. Kenamun rolled out of his reach. He raised himself on to his knees, slipping on his own blood. Below him he could just focus on a long object, like a rolled rug, which rocked to and fro, to and fro. He raised the bucket above his head and brought it crashing down with all his force, gasping and gagging on the blood which continued to bubble into his mouth and choke his nostrils. Recovering his balance, he panicked, for he could not see the body. Had Kenamun got up? Reached the knife?

  He made his eyes focus, searching the floor, dragging the bucket with him as he pulled himself forward. There he was. He had rolled out of reach again, that was all. He tried to decide which end the head was. Objects swam in front of his streaming vision; water and blood obscured it. Suddenly he was aware of fingers reaching towards his eyes. One of Kenamun’s hands clawed into the wound in Huy’s cheek and gripped. He raised the bucket again, and smashed it down, thinking, this is for Nehesy, but also feeling, this is for myself. You must die. I must be sure you are dead. I fear you too much. The bucket hit the ground, and jarred out of his hand. He heard the wood splinter. Frantic, he scrambled after it, seized it, and raised it again. This time it hit home and Kenamun’s body, after one convulsion and a long rattling sigh which was the only sound it had made since it first fell, lay still.

  TEN

  She bathed off the caked blood and cleaned the ripped flesh, throwing the linen wad which Huy had used to staunch the blood into the fire. She looked at the wound and, as he sat still, passively, he looked at her. She caught his eye briefly and smiled.

  ‘It’s a filthy mess. I’m going to put something on it which will hurt, and then you must drink three cups of flame liquor because it will hurt more when I stitch it up and I want you to keep still. I’ll do my best but you will always have a scar there.’

  She turned to the fire, over which herbs were simmering in a copper pot. Through the door open to the garden, he could see Hapu picking chervil, coriander and dill. The two ro geese, taking a morning walk, came into view and peered inside inquisitively. He sat at a plain sycamore-wood table. It was a high-ceilinged room, whitewashed, bare of decoration. Against the wall opposite the fireplace stood a hard couch, above which pots, retorts and bronze implements were ranged on shelves. This had been Horaha’s consulting room, and it was here that she had brought him immediately after his arrival m the ninth hour of night.

  She had not yet asked him for any explanation, and Huy was too exhausted to give any. He was happy to surrender to Senseneb’s skilled attention, and he was grateful for her restraint.

  The lamp on the table was still lit, though by now the sun had risen fully. Huy wondered how long Horemheb would wait for Kenamun to report back before sending someone to look for him. He thought of the police chief’s smashed body, still lying spreadeagled in the bathroom of his house. He had covered it with a blanket before leaving, but he had not had the strength to do more otherwise than close and bolt his doors. He had known that if he could not get medical help quickly he would collapse, and instinctively he had come to Senseneb, leaving immediately in order to arrive before dawn.

  She took the bowl off the fire and placed it on the table, dipped a soft cloth into it and turned to him again. The liquid gave off a pungent, unpleasant odour.

  ‘Now,’ she said. ‘Be brave.’

  The boiling water seared the flesh at first, and the effect of the potion was a harsh stinging that ran outwards from his wound across his face; but it was followed by a numbness that brought relief.

  ‘All right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. Now for the difficult part.’ She smiled encouragement at him. No word had been said, but each of them had laid aside the last reservations they had had about each another and now they basked, like lizards in the sun, in the confidence of their hearts. He saw himself in her eyes as she saw herself in his.

  She brought the liquor and placed it by him with a cup. Turning, she called Hapu, who came in, and, smiling at Huy, took up a position behind the chair.

  ‘What about Merinakhte?’ asked Huy.

  Senseneb looked grim. ‘He hasn’t been back. But Hapu has kept the outer gates locked, and today he will be at the House of Healing. He has already taken up my father’s duties.’

  ‘I am sorry for his patients.’

  She looked at him. ‘Don’t be. He is a doctor of great talent. In some way his Ka is torn down the middle.’

  He is a dangerous man.’

  Yes. Now, drink the three cups of liquor. That will be enough to deaden the pain. When I start, I will work quickly. Grip the sides of the chair tightly. Hapu will hold you still. Trust him. It will not take long. Would you like us to blindfold you?’

  ‘No.’ But Huy felt a qualm at the back of his heart.

  She turned to a smaller copper vessel on the fire. Bringing it to the table, she washed her hands and then, taking off its lid, took a thin needle from it, which she threaded from a bobbin of gut. Huy drank the liquor. It burned his throat and stomach, leaving its familiar glow behind. Huy was in the habit of drinking more than he should, and he worried that three cups would not be enough, but by the time he had tipped back the third his head swam. He felt Hapu pin him to the back of the chair, and dutifully grasped its sides with his hands.

  Senseneb came close, and placed the fingers of one hand on his cheek, either side of the wound. In the other she held the needle. It was very near his eye.

  ‘Now,’ she said gently.

  She worked fast, as she had promised, and the darting pain of the needle as it passed through the flesh was over almost before it began. When the job was finished, she stood back, looking at her handiwork.

  ‘Good,’ she said, handing him a bronze mirror. He looked at the wound. It was livid, and the criss-cross of stitches made him look like a child’s drawing of a river pirate, but his face was recognisably his own once more.

  ‘Now you must rest.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You don’t have a choice.’

  ‘There isn’t time.’

  She cleaned his cheek with water. ‘You must make time. You can pass it by telling me what happened. I might have died of fright when you arrived here.’

  He told her and she listened gravely.

  ‘There is something else,’ said Huy, finishing.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I am arranging for Queen Ankhsenpaamun to leave within days. I want you to go with her.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘To the south. I would like you to take her to Napata.’

  She frowned. ‘I will not leave here until I have seen my father buried. I have told you. And I will not leave without you.’

  He held her arms. ‘The longer you stay, the greater the danger.’

  ‘Kenamun is dead.’

/>   ‘Yes. And it cannot be concealed long. When it is discovered, who knows what will happen?’

  She was silent.

  ‘I have spoken to Ay,’ said Huy. ‘He guarantees your father’s burial and the care of his Ka.’

  ‘Do you believe that he will keep his word?’ if he gets the Golden Chair, there will be no reason for him to act dishonourably.’

  She smiled. ‘Your faith is touching.’

  ‘No. He will want to make a good impression on the people. Horaha was a loyal servant of Tutankhamun. Do not forget the dead are with us always. They watch.’

  ‘Do you believe that?’

  Huy looked away, it is not a question of what I believe, but of what is accepted.’

  ‘And what will you be doing, while I am escorting the queen to Napata?’

  ‘Making sure you are not followed.’

  She took his face in her hands so he could not look away. ‘You are not getting rid of me, are you?’

  ‘What does your heart tell you?’

  She looked down, letting go of his face.

  ‘What you ask is much.’

  ‘The risks are great whether we stay or go. The rewards are greater if we go.’

  The morning was far advanced when he made his way across the palace compound to visit Ay. This was the first time he had come unannounced, and he was cautious in case Ineny was there. But if Kenamun’s body had not been discovered, Ineny would have no idea that Huy was aware of his treachery. Another risk that had to be taken.

  He made his way to a side entrance, displayed his badge of office to the guard, and was admitted; but the house servant who greeted him told him that Ay was meeting with Horemheb and the high dignitaries of the city, and put him in an airless antechamber to wait. There was nothing else for Huy to do.