by Anton Gill
Soon the great tombs of the old kings loomed, massive triangles, on the western shore; Khufu, Khafre and Menkaure. Their white sides glistened in the sun as they had done for over a thousand years, and their pinnacles aspired to the sky. Huy looked, and could not believe that the empire would not stand forever. Here, Psaro and he had disembarked a handful of years earlier to take the eastern trade route to the turquoise mines. From now on, they would both be in new territory. The Great Green seemed near. Asked to describe it, the burly captain of Wild Bull would only smile and shake his head.
‘You will see,’ he said. ‘That is better than any description.’
The great tombs were not out of view to their stern when the high-prowed ship came to the division of the River. She steered into one of the western channels, and set course for the City of the Sea.
They made slower progress, nosing their way through the marshes where reed and papyrus beds stretched as far as a man could see. Herons stood in frozen immobility where the banks uncertainly merged with the shore, beaks plunging now and then like knives after fish, faster than the eye could catch. The River was fanning out on either side into what seemed like a hundred little channels, all striving northward, as the branches of a tree reach to the sky, but the main channel was clear.
There were fewer villages, but many boats. When they passed another falcon-ship the two heralded each other with trumpets. Huy kept his eyes forward, though he maintained his dignity: unofficial his visit might be, but he was the most senior man aboard, and carried letters from the king. Psaro, under no such constraint, craned ahead in the prow.
The first thing Huy felt was a cooling of the air, so much so that he drew his shawl closer about him. Then the breeze freshened and it brought with it an entirely new odour, of unidentified spices and of something that might have been alive, and moving. Odd, mewing white birds circled high overhead, making feints on the ship and, growing bolder, dipping lower in its wake. Then, beyond and beneath their call, he heard a gentle but insistent noise, as of the wind in rushes.
‘Are we near?’ he asked the captain.
‘We are near.’
All at once the River spread out, at once to lose and redefine itself as a triangle of water, at the apex of which was the falcon-ship. Its base was lost in a heat haze some way ahead of them, but on the west bank – which had become a shore, the city rose on its hill. The sky above it was pale, almost colourless. As Wild Bull approached the crowded quays, the haze receded, drawing its veil from the Great Green.
‘It is a desert of water,’ said Psaro. ‘A wilderness.’
They both looked out over the restless surface in silence, noticing the curls and the whitenesses, the foaming and the flashing reflections of the sullen sun.
‘How the light must dance when Ra bursts upon it in all his glory,’ said Psaro.
‘Yes,’ said Huy, moving away from the rail. Had Heby ventured forth in a ship across that? Huy had heard stories of the sea, but they had not prepared him for it. He remembered a friend of long ago, Merymose, who had escaped from the sack of Byblos, first by swimming, then by sailing a small boat across from there to the Delta. He shivered at the thought.
They were among the first to disembark, taking a moment to adapt to standing on dry land again. The air here was different: it was keener than that of the Southern Capital, but in the harbour at least it also carried an unpleasant smell of fish. All but drowning every other sound was the nagging cry of the seabirds. The charioteer came down the gangplank next, followed by the two soldiers attending him, and purposefully made off to the right – in the direction, Huy guessed, of the military encampment a short distance along the coast. The civil servant, travelling alone, joined Huy somewhat diffidently and asked if he was being met by someone from the Governor’s mansion. Hardly had he spoken than a plump, well-groomed man in a plain but expensive kilt and tunic, with gold fastenings to his leather sandals, detached himself from the small crowd watching the unloading and approached Huy.
‘I am Cheruiri. Kamose has sent me to meet you.’
Huy nodded. Cheruiri glanced at the civil servant, noting the man’s low rank, but said nothing to him. He gave Huy a stiff smile of greeting and led the way through the crowd, which parted dutifully for him, to where two litters with an escort of two soldiers each were waiting.
‘Can we afford so many soldiers for such duties at a time like this?’ asked Huy.
Cheruiri looked faintly flustered. ‘There has been some trouble in the town. Nothing to worry about, but the Governor has decided to take no chances.’
‘What has happened?’
‘Kamose will tell you. I am sure you would prefer to hear the whole story from him.’
Nodding to the litter-men, he stood aside for Huy to climb into the first litter, where he joined him. The other carried Psaro, the civil servant, and the luggage. Huy thought he could hear the litter-men grumble and the civil-servant’s piping apologetic tones as they set off.
Fortunately the journey was not a long one. The city, traversed by two intersecting main roads themselves laced together by a maze of little streets, was not as large as the Southern, or even the Northern, Capital, and was centred more than either on its harbour. On a small promontory above it, reached by a short but steep climb, stood Kamose’s mansion. It was a plain, yellow slab of a building whose frontage was adorned with squat columns topped with heavy blue lotus-flowers. The paint on the seaward walls was peeling and grimy. A sparse garden straggled around the perimeter.
But the interior was grander. Painted blue, and devoid of flowers or trees, the walls were decorated with marine emblems – shells, fish, waves, ships – and it was clear that several of the furnishings were made from the wood of boats and barges that had been broken up. It was a house that bore no trace of a woman’s influence – there was nothing fine or delicate here, there was little harmonising of colour, and the atmosphere, though affluent, remained rough-and-ready. But it was a warm atmosphere, and Huy considered it probable that he would like the occupant of such a house.
Cheruiri escorted him through the house to the central hall, while other attendants saw to Psaro, and a junior scribe took the civil servant off to an annexe where either he would find his lodgings or be put straight to work – Huy never saw the man again.
‘Please be seated,’ said Cheruiri, and clapped his hands for bread and beer to be brought. Then, excusing himself with a slight bow, he left the hall by an archway in its eastern wall.
He had hardly gone than Huy heard the sound of a loud, deep voice raised impatiently and then softening. He heard approaching footsteps and watched as into the hall came a man of medium height and build, but strong and broad-shouldered. He wore his own hair, more grizzled than black, cut very short, and he was clean-shaven. His skin was ruddy rather than brown, and there was a fleshiness in the texture of his cheeks and neck. His eyes were intelligent, though veiled, and seemed to look past, rather than at you. They were, Huy noticed, of the clearest blue. Huy had only seen blue eyes in one other person in his life; they disconcerted him.
By his clothes and cloak, shining white and edged with blue and gold Huy knew the man to be Kamose, though the governor was not wearing his Collar of Rank. He stood to greet him, glad that he was himself wearing official dress.
At first he thought Kamose was alone, but Huy noticed the figure of a young woman who hovered for an instant in the doorway by which the governor had just entered. The scribe guessed that it was against her that Kamose’s voice had been raised, and he imagined that she had seen Huy first and dropped back, reluctant to continue the row – for that undoubtedly was what it had been – in front of a stranger. He thought he had caught her eye for a moment, but she was gone before he could gain even a fleeting impression of what she looked like. From the lightness and speed of her movements, she was young.
For a moment Kamose looked at Huy nonplussed. He had not had time to prepare himself, he was taken aback to find the woman had disappeare
d, and he was not sure of whom the stranger was. But he collected himself rapidly.
‘You must be the scribe from the Southern Capital.’
‘The Deputy Head of the State Cultural Archive,’ said Huy, just crisply enough to make a distinction. ‘But I am here unofficially.’
‘Of course. Your son...’ the man broke off. ‘I sent Cheruiri to meet you. Where is he?’
‘I think he has gone to find you.’
Kamose glanced at the table by Huy’s chair. ‘At least they have brought you bread and beer. Please sit down and take some. You must be tired.’
‘One sleeps well on a ship.’
Kamose’s face relaxed. ‘I am glad to hear that you do. You don’t look like a scribe.’
‘So I have been told.’
Kamose poured beer for both of them and, without waiting, took a deep pull at his beaker. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, caught Huy looking at him, and grinned awkwardly. ‘You must forgive me. You have arrived at a difficult time. Not that you are not welcome... You must ask me for whatever help you need.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I hope we can find your son.’ He looked involuntarily in the direction the girl had gone. His face was concerned and angry. Huy reined in his curiosity, but Kamose must have caught his expression. He said:
‘I am a widower. No time to remarry. No desire to.’
Kamose picked at a piece of bread for a moment in silence and then continued by saying,
‘Has the king sent letters?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where are they?’
‘In my luggage.’
Kamose looked apologetic. ‘Forgive my brusqueness. It is odd, meeting like this. Informally.’
‘Yes.’ Huy was aware that his own rank placed him only just below a District Governor, even an important one, like Kamose. The embarrassed silence was broken by the hasty arrival of Cheruiri with three or four attendants. Their presence immediately relieved the atmosphere – partly to Huy’s regret, as he was intrigued by it. What was going on here? Why had they had such a heavy guard coming up to the mansion? But above all he was impatient to get the etiquette of arrival over with. Did Aahmes know he was here? News of the ship’s arrival must have reached her. He did not know if he was looking forward to seeing her again. It had been many years since their last meeting. What would they look like to each other? How would they react to each other?
‘My lord, forgive me –’ said Cheruiri.
Kamose raised a hand. ‘We have met. It is understandable. I was with Hemet. She ran me to earth.’
Huy noticed a look of understanding pass between the two men.
‘I should like to be shown my lodgings, and wash and change,’ he said.
‘Of course,’ said Kamose. ‘You must stay here.’
Huy hesitated. ‘I did not mean –’ he started. ‘This is a private visit. I cannot expect –’
Kamose waved this aside. ‘There is plenty of room. You bring me letters from Ay. There is a guest-house in the mansion grounds which you can use, with a place there for your body-servant. Cheruiri will arrange house-servants for you, and everything you need. We must find your son, and –’ he hesitated for a breath’s space – ‘there is another matter I must talk of with you.’
‘What is it? Cheruiri did mention –’
“Did he?’ replied Kamose, looking at his servant. ‘Well, that is good. But everything in order. I know what is uppermost in your heart, Huy. Go and make yourself comfortable. Cheruiri will show you the way. Let us meet in an hour. Then we can decide what plans to make.’
‘I must make contact with my wife. My former wife.’
Kamose looked at him. ‘Naturally.’ A thought struck him. ‘You do not prefer to stay at her house? Menuhotep has many rooms.’
‘No.’
‘Of course. We will make sure she knows that you have arrived. When will you see her?’
‘As soon as possible.’
‘It is well. But let us speak briefly first.’ He looked at the scribe. ‘Your reputation goes before you, Huy.’
Huy returned his gaze. Was it possible that Kamose had guessed that Ay had only let him come in order to listen for whispers about Horemheb? And whose side was Kamose on? Huy decided to let it pass. He had thought that he would like the owner of this house and so far he had no reason to reverse that opinion; but then, he had been surprised to see a woman living here, and he wondered, for all his preoccupation with Heby, who she was.
Etiquette forbade him to ask a direct question about her – she might be a house-servant or a concubine, there need be no mystery about her – but even if it had not, there would have been no opportunity to do so. Cheruiri escorted him across the mansion gardens to his quarters. There he handed over Ay’s letters to Kamose. As soon as he had washed and changed in the small, but immaculate and comfortable guest house, seen Psaro settled, and politely refused the offer of a girl-companion, he found Cheruiri waiting to accompany him to the work room of his master.
Ignoring the superiority of his rank, Kamose rose to greet Huy when he entered. Seeing the governor for the second time, Huy found himself revising his first impression on the side of caution. There was something almost too bluff and frank about Kamose. Huy looked around the work room. There was little evidence of a heavy workload. Marine trappings adorned the walls, and the window looked out over the great water.
‘I won’t keep you long,’ said Kamose. Huy saw that his eyes were worried.
‘Tell me what is in your heart.’
Kamose gestured towards the letters Huy had brought from the pharaoh. ‘I know that your business here is personal; but I had written to the Southern Capital to ask for advice as soon as I needed it, and now Ay writes that I must take advantage of your service while you are here.’
So, thought Huy. The old fox is not allowing me to run entirely free, even on his errands.
‘How can I help you?’ he asked. There must have been an edge to his voice which he did not intend, for Kamose’s look remained watchful. But why did the man seem so timid?
‘I am sure it will not interrupt your search for your son in any way...’ Kamose spread his hands rather helplessly, ‘but if in the course of looking for him, you could ask a few questions for me.’
‘About what?’ asked Huy, patiently. It was hot and close in the room, despite the keen air outside.
‘You noticed the guard as you came up the hill?’
‘Of course.’
‘You must have wondered at it.’
‘Yes.’
Kamose hesitated. ‘We have had very little civil disturbance here.’ He paused. ‘Very little indeed. But recently –’ He ran a hand over his brow. ‘We have many soldiers here, and Medjays to keep them in order if they get rowdy. But there is no-one who can follow trails.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘As I said, your fame goes before you.’
‘Ay has forbidden me to solve problems.’
‘Well,’ Kamose gestured again towards the letters, ‘he has given you dispensation. I exchanged letters with the king before your departure from the Southern Capital. He told me then and he repeats it here that I am to make use of your talents in any capacity while you are here. Ay cannot think that I do not know that your chief celebrity is as a problem-solver.’
Huy wondered why the king had taken this attitude; but Ay never did anything without a reason. Was this something to do with finding out what Horemheb’s movements were?
‘There has been a death,’ said Kamose.
‘One death?’
‘Yes.’
‘And for that you put guards on every litter-journey?’
Kamose smiled grimly. ‘No. But the man I am talking about was attacked in the street, dragged from his litter and killed. Beaten and stabbed to death. Whoever did it was in a frenzy.’
‘Who was the victim?’
Kamose looked at him. ‘His name was Ipur. He was the chief priest of Amun.’
‘He was one of our most important men.’
‘A friend?’
‘I would not say that. But a valued colleague.’
‘Somebody must have hated him.’
‘It seems impossible.’
‘You said the killing was done in frenzy.’
‘Yes.’
‘What happened to the litter-men?’
‘They ran away as soon as the attack started.’
‘Did they see anything?’
‘They say not.’
‘But they must have seen something. They must have seen the attackers.’
‘Men in black.’
‘What were their faces like?’
‘They did not see their faces – these men were swathed in black, covered. Their faces too.’
‘They sound like Khabiri.’
‘Yes. But there are no desert nomads here. We are at war with them!’
‘And if they came here as spies they would dress like Black Landers.’ Huy considered. ‘No man dies without a reason. Why did Ipur die?’
‘If I knew that, I would be able to find a trail without your help.’ Kamose paused. ‘There was a robbery at his house shortly before his death. Some goods – jewels and gold – were taken from his strongroom.’
‘Had he a family?’
‘Yes.’
‘Friends?’
‘I did not know him well.’
‘That is not what I asked.’
Kamose looked at him. ‘I do not know. His private life – if he had one – is not something I know about.’
‘And yet this is a small city, and you were both high officials of it.’
‘We know how to keep ourselves to ourselves here – perhaps because it is small.’
‘You would not last long in the Southern Capital.’
‘That is not a place I would choose to live.’
Huy raised his hands in a placatory gesture. ‘If I am to build, you must give me some bricks. Please think about this man and tell me what you can of him. Tell me who else knew him. And now if you will permit me, I must go to Aahmes.’
Kamose inclined his head. ‘Of course. You must forgive me. We do not encounter such crimes here often. Ever. This is the first time. And yet we are surrounded by death and the threat of death. The war is close.’