by Gill, Anton
When he received him, Ay was in a contented mood. Huy had not had to wait long, though half an hour had been an age, and the sun beyond the window of the antechamber had seemed to hang without movement in the sky.
‘We meet sooner than I had expected,’ said the old man. is there trouble?’
‘Yes.’
Ay was alert, but the smile did not leave his lips. ‘I imagine we can deal with it. What has happened?’
‘First of all, I must have your confidence.’
Ay continued to smile. ‘That you already have. And my gratitude. We are alone. No one is hiding in the shadows. Speak freely.’
‘Ineny has betrayed you to Horemheb.’
The Master of Horse did not look surprised, if he has, he is too late.’ He leant forward. ‘I thought about your threats to go to Horemheb yourself if I did not do as you requested. So I decided not to wait for that, but to tell him myself. Of course it was necessary to create certain... embellishments, but he sees how things are.’ He drew himself up. ‘You must be quick. I have little time. There is much to prepare.’
‘For what?’
‘For taking the Golden Chair. You are looking at the next pharaoh.’
Huy was silent for a moment, then smiled. ‘You never believed in the force of my threat, did you?’
‘I knew you had given me enough to hang Horemheb, provided that I acted fast.’ Ay’s smile had faded.
‘So you stole a march on me.’
‘Yes. You are a clever man, Huy, as I have said more often than I care to remember. But even Horus has only one eye, so how can a mere man be blamed for a blind spot? I secured the king’s chariot and his horses; I sent men men to recover the tracker’s body; I sealed off the huntsmen’s quarters and interned the men themselves. I can strike fast when I need to. People think that because I am old, and proceed with care, that I cannot move when I want to; but no cobra was ever swifter than me. And you gave me all I needed.’
‘All power to you, Kheperkheprure Ay.’ Inwardly, Huy was congratulating himself that he had delayed telling Ay anything for so long.
The old man smiled again, but his eyes were hooded. ‘Tell me about Ineny. How did you learn about him?’
‘Through Kenamun. Horemheb sent him to kill me last night.’
The pharaoh-elect raised his eyebrows. ‘And where is Kenamun now.’
‘At my house.’
‘Dead?’
‘Yes.’
‘By the look of your face he almost got you.’
‘I saw the sail of the Boat of the Night.’
Ay looked out of the window at the sun. ‘He must be moved soon.’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t worry about Horemheb. He has too much to think about to worry about a lost senet piece like Kenamun. But he does not like loose ends.’
‘That is why I came here. For your help.’
‘What makes you think I will give it?’
Huy spread his hands. ‘You have what you want.’
Ay laughed drily. ‘Yes, I do. And something tells me to keep on the right side of you, Huy. Won’t you really join me?’ The old man paused. ‘You could be senior scribe, here in the palace compound. Would that appeal to you? Keeper of the royal archive, for example?’
Huy’s heart ached, but the decision was no longer his to make. Certainly not now; and he did not foresee a long reign for the man who stood opposite him.
‘You are generous. But I have a job to finish.’
Ay waved his hand. ‘Ah yes. Little Ankhsi. Well, take her away if you must. She will not be a danger to me, and we have had enough bloodshed. But do not forget Horemheb. I am not so naive as to think he is beaten for good. If you want my help, you must tell me what you are going to do.’
‘And Kenamun?’
‘Leave him to me. Do not go back to your house tonight. By morning only the memory of his visit will remain.’
Huy spent much of the day down by the harbour. His wound throbbed, but he had no mirror to see what it looked like, and he had no intention of returning to Senseneb. Here, although he drew a few glances, people were too busy to pay much attention to him as he joined the usual bunch of quayside loafers watching the barges loading and unloading. Wide cedar barges from the northern country east of the Great Green, where the trees grew; gold carriers from the south. Limestone from the north, sandstone and granite from the First Cataract.
Three falcon ships were loading a regiment to head north to the Delta. Couriers had brought news that a Hittite army was gathering and rumours had its destination as the northern desert. The soldiers were conscripts - young, dusty and apprehensive, peasant boys who everyone hoped would be back by the time the flood had subsided, to work the black silt at the beginning of peret.
Huy searched among the ships for one belonging to Taheb's fleet, but he did not see one, or a single face he knew. The day passed slowly, but there would be no point in visiting Nubenehem until the evening. Then, if she had been successful in fulfilling Huy’s request, everything would have to m0ve quickly. Although Ay had reacted to Huy’s plan with scepticism, he had not dismissed it out of hand. Huy would not be forced to stage manage the whole thing on his own now, and his appeal for funds had not been rejected; but Ay had outmanoeuvred him, and he still could not bring himself to trust his new and enforced ally completely.
At last the shadows lengthened and the sun lost its heat, turning a deep red and growing as it always did when it approached the daily moment of its death, dipping with emerald flashes below the edge of the world to warm the empire of Osiris below. The crowd of porters and tradesmen, hawkers and longshoremen, sailors and idlers, dispersed quickly to their homes or to the eating and drinking houses whose owners were already lighting the sparse lamps hanging from mud brick walls. Huy made his way up the sloping street that led to the alleyways of the harbour quarter, and reached the door of the City of Dreams just as dusk was ceding the palm to night.
Nubenehem looked up as he entered. He could tell at once that she had no good news for him.
‘What did you expect?’ she said, it was a crazy idea.’
‘There’s still time.’
Nubenehem laughed. ‘Not a chance. I’ve already asked around - and that kind of request makes people ask questions. If you want to keep whatever it is you’re up to a secret, then don’t ask me for help.’ She paused for a moment. ‘And there’s no refund.’
‘Give it one more try. There’s still a day.’
‘I’m not sticking my neck out any further.’ The fat woman’s face was closed. ‘The way things are going in this town, it is bad business to do favours, even little ones, for friends.’
‘You took the silver quickly enough.’
Nubenehem glared at him. ‘I’m not Hathor. I can’t help you.’
Huy left. His heart was racing, but he told himself that the idea had been too dependent on chance in the first place. He would have to get Ankhsenpaamun out without faking her death, and take the chances of pursuit. He made his way to his house cautiously and watched it from a distance but it, and the square, were deserted. He could not go to Senseneb, for he did not know if Merinakhte would be keeping watch. He thought of Taheb, but quickly rejected the idea. Facing a fact that he had long been aware of, but avoided, that the kind of life he led made his existence friendless, he turned back to the harbour, and the lights of the drinking houses.
At dawn Ineny stood in his master’s workroom, thinking about the narrow escape he had had. Though he had long since stowed the leather bag of gold which Kenamun had given him so contemptuously, his hand still remembered its weight. The humiliation had stung him, but what horrified him most was the thought of the risk he had taken. He sweated with relief at the balancing thought, that he had got away with it, and was still on the winning side. Kenamun was dead. Horemheb had better things to do than betray him to Ay, but had shown no sign that he wished to buy him over to his side. Ineny now thought of the man whom, only hours earlier, he had tried to
destroy, with warmth and gratitude. Once Ay was pharaoh what avenues would not be opened to him?
The work table was bare of papers, and Ineny stood irresolute. It had been ten minutes since the house servant had shown him in. He wondered if he should sit in his familiar seat, but for some reason it looked less inviting, less safe than it had before. Despite himself he felt like a stranger in the room.
There was nothing odd in Ay’s manner when he entered, and Ineny felt reassured.
‘Please sit down,’ said the old man, motioning to Ineny’s chair and taking his own seat. He reached for the jar of wine which stood with beakers on the table and poured it himself. Conscious of the honour, Ineny drew himself up ¡n his seat. He had not deserved such a fate, but his conscience was already encouraging him to think of his act of treachery as an aberration. That was why the gods had made it fail.
‘Thank you, lord,’ he said, standing to accept the proffered cup. Holding it, he remained standing. Something in Ay’s expression held him.
‘Drink,’ said Ay. ‘To my future.’
Ineny continued to stand, holding the cup. In the far recesses of his stomach, his instinct told him to beware; but there was nothing he could do. There was a movement in the room and he shifted his gaze slightly to see that two of Ay’s body servants had entered. Ay sat back, looking at him with faintly amused detachment, the corners of his lips curling upwards almost imperceptibly. One of the men came forward and bent over Ay, whispering to him. Ay nodded, pleased. He looked at Ineny indulgently.
‘Drink,’ he said.
There was no escape. Perhaps it was nothing after all. He raised the beaker, and then, seized with recklessness, drained it.
For a moment nothing happened. He looked at Ay and even registered the change in the old man’s expression. In these last moments of his life he realised that Ay knew. But how?
Then a pain came into his head like a bronze chisel, driven into the centre of the forehead and easing it apart. At the same time there was an overpowering revulsion of the stomach, though when he retched nothing but bitter air rose to his mouth. At that moment the light of the rising sun burst into the room, filling it, it seemed to Ineny, with a white brilliance which blotted everything else out; every detail, every person; and which grew greater and greater in power, until it was the only thing in the universe, and he was one with it.
ELEVEN
‘What has happened to your face?’
Ankhsenpaamun was fascinated, but also concerned. Huy rejoiced at this. It meant that she was beginning to see him as her route to survival. If anything happened to him, she would suffer. Her little hand came up to touch the broken cheek. Her fingertips felt cool and kind.
‘I was attacked,’ replied Huy. He had not yet returned to his house and the intense activity of the past days had worn him out. The fight with Kenamun seemed to have happened weeks ago.
‘Attacked?’ Immediately, her tone became imperious. Nobody was going to forget who she was, and he had spoken too abruptly, without respect. There was something else: someone had dared to molest one of her people. In her heart, had Huy become one of her family?
‘Please do not ask me now,’ he said, more humbly. ‘I have a favour to beg.’
‘Yes?’
He picked his words carefully. ‘Now that the great god Amun has decreed that your grandfather should be heir to Nebkheprure Tutankhamun, the burial of the god-king is assured, and we must leave the city.’
She looked at him acutely. ‘Don’t confuse me with your formality. The real reason we must go is because, although Horemheb has lost the Golden Chair for now, he has not given up.’
‘Yes, Lady.’
She smiled. ‘I thought so. My heart tells me things, now that the king is dead. I begin to live for myself more, and for the pharaoh that I carry.’
‘May he sit on the Golden Chair.’
‘Or may she do so.’
Huy nodded. ‘Of course. But it is rare.’
‘But it has happened. Makare Hatshepsut was pharaoh in her time.’
‘Are we not back to an old contention?’
She smiled again. ‘I am content to leave, if I have Ay’s assurance that the succession will pass to the child in my birth-cave.’
‘I am sure that he will give it. I guarantee it.’
‘But can I trust you?’
‘Yes,’ said Huy, though his heart was hollow. How polluted man’s thinking had become, when deceit had to be used to guarantee the safety of the innocent. Trust, duty, hope - these were concepts that man should never have had — he was not up to them.
‘My own people tell me Horemheb is angry.’
‘Yes?’
‘Kenamun is dead. Horemheb thinks Ay’s agents did it. Something about a body downriver, which a fisherman noticed as the matet boat rose in the sky. But the crocodiles dragged it under.’
‘I need your help.’
‘Yes?’
‘To leave here, we must travel by the river.’
‘Of course.’
‘I cannot organise a boat alone. We must leave discreetly. Please understand the need for this.’ It was beyond Huy to explain why, but he still hoped to leave behind them convincing proof of the queen’s death.
He had expected Ankhsenpaamun to be disagreeable; but her mood had changed, and she entered into the conspiracy with enthusiasm.
‘You must ask Taheb,’ he suggested.
‘Why don’t you?’
‘I cannot.’
‘Why not? You knew her well once.’
‘Once!’
‘Do you think she cannot be trusted?’
‘I do not think that. But no approach from me would be fitting.’
‘Why not?’ repeated the queen.
Huy fought with his pride. But there was a more important reason: Taheb would not argue if the request came from the queen herself. ‘Because we do not know each other as we once did. But was she not a friend of the court? I saw her at Nezemmut’s wedding to Horemheb.’
The queen considered. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Firstly, to Napata.’
‘That is to the south!’
‘They are loyal. There is nothing to the north but greater danger. And you cannot stay here.’
‘So you have told me.’
She remained silent for a long time. Then, ‘Did you say ask?’ she said frostily.
‘Tell,’ suggested Huy, fighting exhaustion.
‘Command.’
Huy was silent.
‘Taheb will help,’ said the queen slyly. ‘Why do you think my little intelligence network is the only part of the royal palace that remains even halfway efficient and loyal?’ She paused, looking sad. ‘But now it is crumbling too. Of course I recognise the need to depart.’
When Huy returned to his house he hardly recognised it. Nothing was missing, but nothing was out of place either. Everything, even the scrolls on the shelves, was meticulously ordered, and the images of Bes and Horus which presided over his central room were free of dust and sand for the first time in years. The yard was swept and the bathroom so tidy and clean it seemed inconceivable that two nights ago it had witnessed a bloody and fatal battle.
He walked through the rooms which he would soon have to leave forever. Into whose keeping could he place this building, whose arms had encircled his battered body and protected it at the end of so many lonely, desperate days? There would be no time. He would lock up and leave, and that would be all. No doubt later some little official would come snuffling round, because the house did not conform to accepted principles of ownership. There would come a time perhaps when the guardians of conformity would control all life.
He found the note hidden carefully under the statue of Bes. A scrap of paper bearing Ay’s cartouche. Remaining only long enough to wash, shave, apply fresh make-up, and change, Huy set off again to see the pharaoh-elect.
He noticed that there were twice as many soldiers in Ay’s livery on guard, and he recognised severa
l former members of Horemheb’s Black Medjays among them; but Ay was expecting him, and he was admitted quickly. The old man received him in a crowded room through which a number of body servants and scribes passed. At two tables, secretaries were issuing written orders. Huy might have expected to see Ineny playing a prominent part in the preparation for Ay’s new status, but decided not to ask what had become of him.
Ay looked younger than Huy had ever seen him, and stood erect, like a youth. His hair was freshly dyed, and his skin shone with oil. He wore a blue-and-gold headdress and a full-length cream tunic, with a pleated kilt that reached to below the knee. His sandals were polished leather, with gold fittings in the shape of snakes and scarabs. He was heavily scented with seshen, and his make-up was fashionably pale. His heavy collar matched his headdress, and the balancing mankhet which hung down his back was of gold, in the shape of the tjet amulet.
He was a king already.
‘Huy.’
‘Lord.’
Ay smiled broadly. ‘I have good news for you.’
‘What is it?’
‘The means to make your scheme succeed. The gods have sent us a gift.’
‘What?’
Ay’s face became graver. ‘Of course what falls happily for us is also a tragedy. But if life has a purpose, so perhaps does death.’
‘What has happened?’ Huy’s eyes prickled. He blinked to rest them, and forced them wide open. He had smudged a crumb of kohl on his lower right eyelash, and it blurred the foreground of his vision.
‘I have a body for you to bury as the former queen.’
Huy felt energy surge back into him. ‘That indeed is a gift. Where is it?’
‘On the river.On its way here from the Northern Capital.’
‘But who —?’
Ay was solemn, it may be better if Ankhsi does not know - it is little Setepenra.’
‘What happened?’
Ay spread his hands. ‘We do not know exactly. A snakebite, probably. She was in the palace garden when suddenly she cried out and fell. They called doctors immediately, of course. But by the time they arrived it was too late.’