The Stone Golem

by Mary Gentle

  ‘But…Master Rekhmire’ will have told you my business in Iberia.’

  ‘In broad detail.’ The Pharaoh-Queen Ty-ameny rested her elbows on the stone sill.

  The spreading gardens below had the air of something Roman. A stone maze beyond a hedge looked darker, a mass of obelisks and pyramids that I thought must be monuments or graves. Momentarily I pictured the ancient junipers growing in the dark, in Carthage’s tophet. If I painted Baal’s face now, could I get it right? Now there’s Onorata?

  Ty-ameny shifted herself around, looking a considerable way up to see my face. Under that study, I reached out to the silver basin on the sill, water warmed by the sun, and began to wash blood and paint from my hands.

  The Pharaoh-Queen said, ‘And what are your intentions towards Rekhmire’?’

  A slave thrust a towel into my hands and I dropped it.

  What?

  The slave passed me another cloth. Mute through bewilderment, I dried my hands and returned it. Not that the droplets wouldn’t have been sucked up by the sun in a few minutes.

  ‘Intentions?’ I forced myself to calmness. ‘To help him wherever I can, Highness.’

  She put her hand up on my forearm. Her fingers were as small as a twelve-year-old girl’s, and her palm sandy and hot.

  ‘It would displease me personally if Rekhmire’ were deliberately hurt.’

  Bakennefi had also examined me, at Ahhotep’s request; both of them had found something to criticise and cluck over in the stitches removed from my lower belly. I will always bear the marks. Now I thought I heard Honorius and Rekhmire’’s voices spontaneously chiming together: Save the mother.

  Ty-ameny’s clear small voice said, ‘Suppose his duties take him to a different land, now? Suppose he were to leave Alexandria tomorrow? With the foreign ship?’

  There was a sharp pain in the pit of my stomach, keen enough to make me wonder if Alexandrine food might not be suited to it.

  Mouth dry, I thought, Interesting–I would sooner he didn’t leave.

  Rekhmire’ no longer owns me as a slave. He brought me to Alexandria because he needed to come here himself. Yes, he will help solve the problem of Aldra Videric, but–not, perhaps, personally.

  I must look bewildered and stupid, I realised, but I could find no words for this realisation I would have preferred to avoid.

  The Pharaoh-Queen studied me with a sparrow-like tilt to her head. I thought it an even throw of the dice whether she would accept my silence, or have one of the sandal-hurling outbursts of temper that Egypt seems to permit its female rulers.

  ‘Great Queen.’ I wiped my hand over my face. Spots of colour told me I had missed spatters; I doused my fingers in the bowl and wiped water over my skin again. ‘I…would still wish to help him.’

  She gave a decided nod.

  ‘We should talk of the future.’ Her features a mask of distaste, she raised her free hand a fraction. ‘Elsewhere.’

  The nearest slave crossed the room instantly and bowed, giving her a scented cloth. I avoided the slave’s eye. Even with the stone surface sluiced down, the stink of the dead slave still hung in this room. If this slave dies of age or sickness here, will he end up opened on a stone table?

  ‘Bakennefi Aa wouldn’t mind a look under my skin,’ I said before I knew I was to be quite so honest.

  Queen Ty-ameny frowned at me over her silk kerchief.

  ‘I do hope you’re careful about taking food and drink around him…’

  Rekhmire’ entered the chamber just as Queen Ty-ameny of the Five Great Names doubled up, giggling like a schoolgirl.

  I folded my arms.

  At Rekhmire’’s raised brow, Ty-ameny pointed at me, waved a hand weakly in dismissal of the matter, and shot me a glance with more genuine apology than I have ever had from King Rodrigo.

  ‘It’s hardly fair,’ she murmured. ‘I’m Alexandria’s queen; how much free interchange can there be between a queen and any other man or woman?’

  Before I thought, I said, ‘That’s what I tell my slave.’

  Rekhmire’’s rumbled louder comment drowned me out. ‘That’s why I freed Ilario, cousin.’

  The tiny woman smiled wryly. ‘Well, no man is going to free me from the throne. And I don’t think I would let them. Very well: we need to talk. The matter of Zheng He must be settled soon–before there is more trouble from Carthage.’

  16

  Pharaoh-Queen Ty-ameny of the Five Great Names sat small and erect, among cushions embroidered in blue and gold with her lineal ancestor Ra the Sun-God of Old Egypt.

  The Admiral of the Ocean Sea, at last on shore, sat on her right-hand side, on the ochre marble ledge of the sunken area of her Council chamber, Jian beside him. Rekhmire’ was next to Ty-ameny, then I on Rekhmire’’s left hand, with half the eunuch bureaucracy beyond me. Zheng He’s other officers and Alexandria’s sea-captains and army-generals, at the end of the great chamber, shared space with Ty-ameny’s natural philosophers and Royal Mathematicians, who kept papers and instruments and charts beside them on the low seat.

  The Alexandrines might be old, young, fat, thin, eunuch, or–occasionally–intact male. What they all had in common was an intensity of gaze when it came to Zheng He.

  Absently, I began to sketch Ty-ameny on the virgin wax surface of my tablet. She wore a gold mask that included the shape of a beard; less hot, I thought, to tie over her face than the hair-replica. I put the lines of Zheng He in beside her to give scale. She barely came up to his shoulder.

  She is the only woman in the room. If you do not count the half of me.

  I pushed other concerns out of my mind.

  Because if Videric can reach out to harm me in the middle of Ty-ameny’s court in Alexandria, I may as well give up now.

  In fact, there was little enough said over the next hour that had not been said between Rekhmire’ and Admiral Zheng He on the great war-junk. I came to the conclusion that the Admiral wanted to hear it from the mouth of–as he called her–‘the Great Foreign Empress’.

  Rekhmire’ himself finally caught Ty-ameny’s eye, and hauled forward one of the sea-charts.

  ‘In fact, noble Admiral, it is as the Great Queen of the Five Name’s captains inform you. That enticing eastward-leading sea there, vast as it appears, will not take you further than Turkish ports close to Aleppo. And if you have maps of the land routes between your home and those cities, you will know that they are still hundreds of leagues distant from it; perhaps thousands.’

  And full of Turks and Persians, though Rekhmire’ said nothing of that. Ty-ameny might suppose this foreigner ultimately an ally of those more eastern powers.

  Zheng He grunted, leaned forward to study the map, and waved Jian’s formal polite thanks aside, interrupting his subordinate. ‘Yes, I see, but why would I believe?’

  Ty-ameny’s face behind the mask would be fascinating to draw, I thought regretfully.

  Rekhmire’ smiled, inclining his head. ‘Because if the Black Sea were the way to your home, New Alexandria would be asking you to pay the fee to pass the Bosphorus, great Admiral. As we do with all vessels passing to trade in the Black Sea.’

  ‘And you don’t charge us a fee in any case? And send us through and keep silent about—’ Zheng He waved a huge hand at the charts. ‘—this bounded Black Sea of yours?’

  Ty-ameny’s voice issued from behind the full curved mouth of the golden mask of Ra. ‘There is a reasonable chance that you and your ship would afterwards return here.’

  Her rich tone showed her definitely amused, to anyone who knew her.

  Rekhmire’ smoothly added, ‘This is the only route into, and out of, the closed sea. Forgive the Great Queen of the Five Names if she doesn’t desire to have you and your great ship back here angry at perceived treachery. That would hardly be worth anything we could extort from you now.’

  Zheng He slapped his thigh. His officers obediently laughed. I saw a certain relaxation go through Ty-ameny’s commanders. Having used up almost
all the wax surface of my tablets, I set myself to detailing the embroidery on Zheng He’s high collar, and the lines around his eyes and mouth that signified amused satisfaction.

  ‘If closed sea.’ He traced the lines of the Black Sea on the Egyptian chart before him–it was meagre with detail, I noted–before moving west to Alexandria and the straits, and the beginning of the Greek islands. ‘Is this, you call it “Middle Sea”, also closed? But no. Because we came in. And where there is a way in, there is also a way out.’

  None of the Pharaoh-Queen’s charts showed any of the sea or land west of Crete. That was in no way an accident. Zheng He’s ship might navigate back from Alexandria, through the long straits after Marmara, to the Aegean. But after that…the natural direction for him would be south and east, but that would only bring him, eventually, to Sidon and Tyre.

  ‘We have not yet,’ Zheng He said equably to Ty-ameny’s implacable mask, ‘begun to discuss the advantages of trade between my land and yours, great Empress.’

  Plain as the daylight outside the linen-shaded windows: Now we merely argue about the price!

  I shifted where I sat, not able to talk to Rekhmire’ now he was the main conduit of translation between Zheng He and the Pharaoh-Queen.

  It should be possible to find the Straits to the western ocean simply by following along the coast of North Africa, I thought, but not if no man was willing to tell him how it might be done.

  I saw instantly what Ty-ameny had to bargain with. Charts, yes, but charts are often inaccurate. What Zheng He will need to get back to the Straits between Iberia and North Africa is a pilot.

  Something nagged at the back of my brain. I prodded and scraped my tablets clean, and fell to doodling Horus-eyes while the council continued with every man desiring his say.

  Two hours later, there was a pause for wine and light food.

  I took Rekhmire’’s elbow on pretence of assisting him, and steered him into one of the alcoves, out of earshot of Ty-ameny and her generals socially chatting with Zheng He and Jian and the other foreigners.

  Rekhmire’ raised a familiar brow at me.

  ‘Would you call this a crisis?’ I demanded.

  His brows came down, frowning. ‘Potential. I think it defused by what we’ve done—’

  ‘The arrival of his ship.’ I clamped down on my impatience. ‘No kingdom in the Middle Sea has anything to match it. Whatever port sees Zheng He, there’ll be panic and crisis. Am I right?’

  Rekhmire’’s lips parted, very slightly; in any other man it would have been an ah of realisation.

  I spoke before he could.

  ‘Perhaps, cause enough panic that a King–no matter what difficulties he might seem to be having with his most trusted adviser–would find himself forced to call that man back to court?’

  17

  I held Rekhmire’’s gaze.

  ‘I comprehend,’ he murmured. ‘If it could be negotiated for Zheng He to sail to Taraco…’

  My mind raced. I glanced back into the chamber, ensuring no eunuch or man of Chin was within hearing distance. ‘King Rodrigo could take that as the excuse to bring Videric back from his estate.’

  Rekhmire’ stood very still, his face intent.

  Iurged, ‘He would. If a messenger was sent ahead to explain to him…Look at that ship! Do you think any man in Taraco would be surprised if Rodrigo wanted his best adviser back to help him deal with it? Even Carthage wouldn’t blink at that.’

  Rekhmire’ clasped his hands over the top of his stick. His intense gazed focused onto me. ‘That–would be a beginning.’

  My hands sweated. I rubbed them on my linen tunic. ‘You think—’

  ‘It would soon become apparent that the Admiral is no threat. The scandal around Videric’s name might not be entirely gone. But, yes, as a beginning—’ He interrupted himself. ‘Carthage! If Carthage was to take the war-junk as an ally of Taraconensis…’

  ‘Would that be good or bad?’ I asked anxiously.

  ‘Good, if it makes the Lords-Amir cautious about sending legions into Iberia. Bad, if it provokes them into doing that very thing out of panic.’

  I found my hand clenching around the wood frame of the wax tablets, cutting into my skin. ‘I didn’t think of that.’

  Rekhmire’ stroked his hand down his hairless chin, his eyes narrowing. ‘This is worth considering. Many ramifications–many…’

  His monumental face momentarily split in a warm smile that was all Rekhmire’. And a nod that was pure professional cousin of Ty-ameny.

  ‘I’ll speak with the Pharaoh-Queen. It must be discussed through and through. Ty-ameny has no greater wish than you to see war start in Taraconensis, and bring every other kingdom in with it.’

  He blinked eyes that caught the linen-sifted light, and shone the colour of brandy.

  ‘It won’t be a quick answer, I fear. Between Ty-ameny’s councillors and the Admiral’s advisers…But I’ll have an answer. I will. Well done, Ilario.’

  I watched him as he limped away towards the Pharaoh-Queen, my stomach fairly tying itself into knots.

  True to his word, time passed.

  In those occasional hours when I saw him out of council, he desired only to rest his mind, and this seemed to take the form of escorting Onorata and myself (with the German brothers) about Constantinople–‘A city,’ as he said, ‘where you can walk from Europe to Asia in the space of a mile.’

  I did just that, dragging Tottola and Attila along with me in the evening’s warmth, taking Onorata under a great paper sunshade from the Chin war-junk. So that I would be able to tell her, when she was old enough, that she had stood in Asian lands.

  Which assumes she does not stay here, grow up in Alexandria-in-exile…

  Both Rekhmire’ and the Pharaoh-Queen Ty-ameny showed an interest in my daughter.

  The book-buyer, finding me holding her on the room’s balcony again one morning, bent over to study her more closely. Onorata was solidly asleep, one closed fist resting up under her fat chins, and I stroked with a forefinger at the dark hair slicked down on her scalp.

  Rekhmire’ straightened up. ‘When do they get interesting?’

  ‘They what?’

  ‘Infants. Will she talk soon? Or move around more?’

  I raised an eyebrow at him, as much in his own fashion as I could imitate. ‘You don’t know?’

  ‘I’m a book-buyer, not a nurse!’ Half affronted and half amused, he gazed down at me. ‘Aren’t you supposed to know these things?’

  ‘I was the youngest. I expect Sunilda or Matasuntha could tell you. And I’m a painter!’

  Tottola strolled in from the anterooms, evidently changing shift on guard duty, and gave the Egyptian a look that clearly inquired And the thing that’s so funny is—?, without needing a word. He stripped off his mail-shirt and garments, abandoning them for striped linen robes that reminded me painfully sharply of Iberia, nodded respectfully to me, and fell instantly asleep on his palliasse.

  Onorata began a grumble in her sleep. Rocking her in the crook of my arm, I discovered she found that motion no substitute for milk.

  Rekhmire’ offered her a blunt-nailed thumb, with no better success.

  I said, ‘I’ll get Carrasco to make her feed.’

  Rekhmire’ made himself scarce.

  Ty-ameny’s interest was the authentic tone of the Alexandrine philosopher. She visited, a day or two after, and leaned forward from among the cushions, studying my child who had fallen asleep on a blanket on the floor.

  How I’ll ever convince anyone of the hellion she is, when she angelically sleeps in their presence—

  ‘Is she normal?’ Ty-ameny asked.

  Any other woman, I would have slapped. It was the Alexandrine curiosity in her tone that restrained me, more than her rank. Although that carried its weight.

  ‘It appears so, Aldro. Until she grows up, who can say?’

  The small woman nodded, and leaned back.

  Without requesting permission, I s
ettled on the goats’-wool blankets beside Onorata.

  Rekhmire’ remained standing.

  Ty-ameny complained almost sulkily, ‘You’re making my neck ache. Sit down, in Ra’s name!’

  Rekhmire’ bowed as deeply as slaves do. With the help of his stick, he moved as if to seat himself on the stone ledge beyond her.

  Her hand closed over his wrist as he passed.

  Rekhmire’ let her arrest him. I saw in a heart’s beat all their history in the glance between them. I felt curiously shut out. Although the ruling of New Alexandria is no concern of mine.

  Ty-ameny’s cheeks darkened a little, as if the heat of the room flushed her face. She moved her hand to her chin, as if she would stroke the Pharaoh’s false beard that she was not wearing today. ‘It was a reasonable question!’

  ‘Yes, Great Queen,’ Rekhmire’ said mildly.

  The queen looked at him through narrowed eyes.

  Without turning, she said, ‘Ilario, I apologise for not asking that in a more tactful manner.’

  I bowed, catching how Rekhmire’’s face warmed as she spoke.

  ‘Too many people have thought it a reasonable question for me to like it, Great Queen,’ I said.

  ‘I believe that was the reason I was just slapped down.’ She spoke darkly, looking up at Rekhmire’. ‘Isn’t that right, cousin?’

  ‘The wisdom of the everlasting Gods is spoken through the mouth of the Pharaoh-Queen.’ Rekhmire’’s monumental face broke into a smile that made him look twenty. ‘Most of the time…’

  ‘Stop towering over me, book-buyer. I can still shorten you by a head, any day of the week!’

  ‘Of course, cousin.’ Rekhmire’’s bow was so elegantly proper that, had I been Ty-ameny, I would have thrown something at him. I saw her small fingers tighten around one of the cushions as she grinned. The large Egyptian moved, seating himself on the bench beside her, and under cover of smoothing out the folds of his linen kilt, shot me a reassuring look.

  I envied them their closeness.