The statue was a labour of selfless love I knew I did not deserve. Standing it on the table beside my couch I prostrated myself before it, saying the prayers I should have said to the god on my naming day and beseeching him for his protection for my family. I was chastened and ashamed. When I had finished I took up my palette and papyrus and wrote to my father, and for once the words came from my heart. Even though I was now completely proficient I was still supposed to dictate my letters to Ani for obvious reasons, but this time I defied Hui. He could read in my presence what I had written if he liked, I did not care, as long as he allowed the scroll to go south. I wanted to go with it. Not to abandon my life in this house, of course not, but to look once more into my mother’s dark, imperious eyes, to be enfolded in my father’s vigorous embrace, to sit with Pa-ari and hold his hand while the sun sank, red and peaceful, behind the pure, bare waves of the desert horizon. That longing lasted for the rest of the day.
Before long I had learned the knots that kept Hui’s inner room secure and had devised a few of my own. He liked them to be changed once a month. I thought his measures excessive seeing that a guard was also posted in the passage outside his larger office every night to prevent anyone entering but Hui or myself, but he ignored my protests.
I was soaking up knowledge rapidly but cautiously. I had no intention of poisoning myself as I took down one jar or phial after another for examination and record. Each day Hui would question me closely about the herbs and powders he had instructed me in the day before. If I made a mistake he would repeat the lesson all over again, but I seldom made mistakes. Kaha’s memory training stood me in good stead.
I also learned a far more sophisticated medicine than my mother could dream of. Painstakingly I drew the channels of the Metu in the body. I listed the symptoms of the presence of the Vehedu. I pondered the Ukhedu, the rot that could be male or female, that caused disease and pain by working its way through the Metu but that could be killed with the proper drops, salves, poultices and incantations. Before long I understood the remedies Hui dictated to me for the women of the harem or for his few private patients, and sometimes I felt confident enough to ask for clarification if I was puzzled by his prescriptions.
By the time New Year’s Day, the first day of the month of Thoth, came circling around again, I was standing beside Hui, ready to lift from the shelves whatever ingredient he requested as he wielded the stone pestle or reduced some liquid over an open flame on the marble tabletop that was always cold to the touch. As well as passing him what he needed, I was expected to keep a careful note of what he was doing, and weigh and record the amount of everything used.
Hui was sometimes away, exercising his gift as a Seer in the temples or at the street shrines, and then I was expected to fill the hours in Disenk’s company. But one day towards the end of Khoiak, when once again the river had turned most of Egypt into a vast brown lake and the air was cool, I was at last allowed to work alone. As I presented myself in the office, palette under my arm, and bowed, noticing with a sinking heart that Hui was muffled in the linen swathings that protected him from the sun and the contemptuous gaze of the populace, he pushed a sheaf of papyrus across the desk.
“While I am gone you can make up these prescriptions,” he said off-handedly. “Be very careful with the one for the Chief of the Medjay Mentmose. He has a bad case of intestinal worms, and the remedy I have devised for him includes powder of the dog button. You will have to grind the seeds yourself. Wear gloves, and wrap your mouth and nose in linen. Add no more than one tenth of a ro to the finished liquid.” As he spoke he raised a bandaged hand to push a stray lock of white hair back under his hood, and a flood of love and pity washed over me. Setting my palette on the desk I ran to him and pressed my cheek against his arm, then I looked up. The red eyes gleamed at me briefly from the shadow of the hood. The rest of his face was covered.
“You are more beautiful than many men who walk about free under the sun,” I blurted. For a moment he was motionless. He made a sound—whether a grunt of humour or a groan I could not tell because I could not see his features—and gently shaking me off he glided from the room. I turned to the knotted cord on the inner door, my hands trembling. “Thu, you are a clumsy child,” I reproved myself aloud as I fumbled with the knots. “You have made a fool of yourself.” The door swung open. I gathered up palette and papyrus and went into the heavy blackness.
From then on I took pleasure in the freedom of being alone amongst the strange odours and fragrances. I would light the lamps, close the door, and reach for the first component in Hui’s prescription with a lightness I had not felt since the times my mother had let me out of our house after the day’s chores were done and I had run barefoot for the riverbank. The whole household knew that the Master’s offices were forbidden to them when he was away. No one could get at me, even Disenk. Only Harshira had the right to approach, and that was only to the outer office. I was privileged. I was important. Best of all, I could indulge my delight in the weighing and measuring, the mixing and rendering and pouring, knowing that I had the power of life or death in my hands.
I had, however, forgotten Kenna. It was the sixth day of Tybi, and one of the new feasts of Amun instituted by Pharaoh. Hui had gone to the palace and as was the custom on any god’s festival, the servants were not required to work. The house was quiet. I had opened the inner office, a place that had already become my sanctuary, and was just lighting the lamps, when I heard the outer door close. My heart leaped. Hui had returned very early. Stepping confidently into the shaft of sunlight falling across the floor of the large office I came face to face with Kenna. He was carrying a twig broom, several rags and a jug of steaming hot water. He did not seem surprised to see me, nor did he greet me. His face set, lips pursed, he brushed by me and pushed the inner door wide. I whirled after him.
“What are you doing?” I snapped. He set the jug on the marble-topped table with insulting deliberation, dropped the rags on the floor, and turned slowly, the broom in both hands.
“I have come to clean, obviously,” he retorted coolly.
“You are not allowed in here unless the Master is also present.”
“I am. I can clean whenever the medicine room is open.” He waved at the door. “As you can see, it is open now. You undid the knots yourself. Therefore, I can clean.” His caustic tone infuriated me.
“You need not address me as though I was a child!” I said hotly. “I am busy today, making up prescriptions for the Master. I do not want to be disturbed. Go away!” He shrugged.
“I do not need your permission to perform my duties here. I will work around you, Highness.” The last word was heavy with sarcasm. I glared at him, fighting the instant burst of repugnance he always managed to conjure in me, and suddenly my mind was full of the occasional dreams I had of him that left me hot and restless. Kenna naked, Kenna cowering at my feet with the marks of my whip across his shoulders. Marching by him I hefted the water jar, carried it out, and set it on Hui’s desk. Going back I gathered up the rags and threw them after it. I blew out the lamps one by one. Leaning in, I grasped the edge of the door and began to close it. My face was very close to his.
“I have decided not to work today,” I said sweetly. “You will have to return at some time when Hui is here.” He smiled but his eyes remained cold.
“To hear his name coming out of your common little mouth is blasphemy,” he declared in a low voice. “You are arrogant, vain and selfish. Furthermore, you imagine yourself to be far more important than you really are. I shall of course go to Harshira, and tell him that your pettiness is disrupting the smooth running of this household. Then we shall see whose word carries the most weight.”
I did not move. The wood of the door bit into my fingers, so frenzied was my grip, and I squeezed all the harder, thinking furiously. I knew he was right. In this matter I had no authority, and I had been stupid to force such a confrontation. Hui would not bother himself with such a frivolous clash but Harshira w
ould have me dragged into his awesome presence and give me a tongue-lashing. I hated to lose to this bitter, self-important man. I thrust my face even closer. “You are in love with Hui, aren’t you?” I hissed. “Madly and hopelessly, and you are insanely jealous of me because although you touch his body, wash and dress him, set out his food and fold down his sheets, you do not share his mind. I am the one who knows his thoughts. I am the one with whom he discusses his work.” It was cruel, cruel and completely unnecessary, but I was driven by my own unacknowledged jealousy. I wanted to possess Hui myself, to not only work with him in the delicious intimacy of the herb room but to do all those things for him that were Kenna’s domain. I watched the man’s nostrils flare, his eyes narrow in hatred, and knew I was right.
A dark exultation bloomed in me, loosened my fingers, oiled my spine, and I closed the gap between us. My mouth fastened itself onto his almost before I knew what I was doing. I could feel him go stiff with shock, his lips frozen beneath mine, then they fluttered and opened and for a moment a delirious pang of warmth shot through my stomach and down to my loins. But he twisted away, and as he did so he bit me hard. I cried out, stumbling back against the desk, both hands clapped against my throbbing mouth, and he grabbed up one of the cleaning rags and scraped it across his face. He was shaking.
“You evil little bitch,” he whispered. “So you think you share his work, do you? You have no idea what his work really is. As for his thoughts, do not delude yourself. They are deep and strange and far above anything a conceited whore like you could understand.” He strode towards me and I shrank back, believing that he was going to strike me, but he began to gather up the things he had brought. “I have served him longer than you have been alive,” he went on scornfully, “and I will still be here long after you have gone, for the seeds of your destruction are already sprouting within you, O child of Set. Put on fine linen. Paint your face and strut about. You will never be more than a crude little peasant, and no magic in Egypt can give your blood the invisible tincture of nobility.”
“Jealous!” I shouted at him, my lip already swelling, and he had the effrontery to smile again as he turned towards the door.
“No, Thu, my loathing for you is not jealousy,” he said over his shoulder as he went out. “I would not waste even such a base emotion as that on someone like you.” Then he was gone.
“It is jealousy! Of course it is!” I shrieked wildly at the closing door. “How dare you speak to me like that!” I was the Master’s assistant and he was nothing but a body servant, a drudge.
Striding to the inner door I jerked it all the way shut, and I had begun to tie the intricate knots of the cord when all at once I became completely calm. My hands steadied. My breathing slowed. The marks of his teeth are in my mouth, I thought distinctly. I will have to tell Disenk that I slipped and cracked myself on the edge of a chair. I will tell Hui the same thing, but what will Kenna say to him? Will he complain about me? Will he tell the Master the truth, and will he be believed? How secure am I in Hui’s life, in his affections? How much trouble can Kenna make for me, now and in the future, if he chooses to start pouring poison into Hui’s ears?
Poison.
The knots were complete, lying tangled against the polished wood of the door. I gazed at them unseeingly and gingerly fingered my wounded mouth. I had behaved abominably, reprehensibly, in goading Kenna. I had been unable to control myself but I had learned a valuable lesson in self-discipline and I vowed that nothing like it would ever happen again. Ever. Once was enough. I should have bitten my own lip and remained silent whatever the cost, but it was too late to undo the damage I had done. Kenna was now an open enemy, able to influence Hui against me in subtle, private ways. Therefore one of us must go, and it would not be me. Thoughtfully I made my way back to my room.
Disenk exclaimed in horror over my minor disfigurement, throwing up her tiny hands and sending immediately for salt water and a piece of fresh meat. Gently and efficiently she bathed the swelling and made me sit with the meat covering it until the throbbing had died away. Then she dabbed it with honey. I was scarcely aware of her ministrations. My mind was working feverishly, scanning Hui’s collection of noxious powders. Hemlock perhaps. A leaf tossed into Kenna’s salad would loosen his limbs so that he would not be able to walk well. His eyesight would become weak and his heart would flutter. The advantage to the hemlock was that its symptoms would not begin to show for an hour or so, but although Hui had taught me the plant’s deadly properties he had not schooled me in the amounts needed. Too much and Kenna would die. Too little, and he might recover after a day or so and return to his Master’s side. The root was harmless in the spring, but did harmless mean that it would produce no symptoms at all or that it would merely make one sick? A refreshing drink made from the leaves of the thornapple? Hui had included the tiniest amount in one of his prescriptions. But as the thornapple’s noxious qualities were known to every Egyptian physician it was more than likely that the Master would recognize Kenna’s illness. The dog button? It was the most virulent poison on Hui’s shelves, killing by inhalation, ingestion or contact with the skin. Hui had described to me in horrifying detail the way I would die if I was foolish enough to handle it carelessly. But in tiny medicinal doses it produced no symptoms at all, and there was no middle ground of mere illness with its use. It destroyed completely or it did nothing obvious.
While Disenk checked the progress of my lip, her perfect features as solemn as though I had lost a tooth and would be ugly for life, I considered and discarded one possibility after another. The oleander worked too quickly. The bead vine had to be chewed. Honey from the azalea was a possibility, but where could I obtain it? My mind felt as hot and swollen as my mouth and in the end I pushed all thought of Kenna away. There was time to decide what to do, days if necessary, before the acid words I knew he would spew forth began to be considered seriously by Hui. If they were taken seriously. Perhaps the Master would brusquely command his servant to be silent, to take his complaints to the Chief Steward. But perhaps Kenna was right and my place here less secure than I had imagined. It was all very difficult. I sighed, and Disenk asked anxiously, “Does it hurt very much, Thu?” I shook my head. The real hurt was inside me. Evil bitch. Conceited whore. Common, arrogant, vain, selfish. Was I all those things? Of course not. Kenna had lashed out from the same pain that had stung me. Jerking away from Disenk’s feathery touch I told her that I must swim, and together we made our way out into the garden, I to lose myself in the embrace of the water and she to sit on the bank and watch me.
It was easier, in the end, than I had thought. Once a week Kenna appeared to clean the inner office, and while I took dictation or passed ingredients to Hui as he bent over his stained bowls and utensils, the man would sweep and wash around us. Hui seemed hardly aware that he was there, so used was he to the well-established routine, but I watched Kenna closely. Often he would pause halfway through his chores to summon a slave with beer. He would place the cup on the outer desk to drink from when he became thirsty. Sometimes this did not happen, but more often than not he would end his work by wiping the sweat from his forehead and neck, and stand for a moment while he drained the cup. Then he would gather up his tools, including the cup, and leave. He always finished well before Hui and I and was gone as quietly as he came.
After much deliberation I had settled on the love apple with which to revenge myself on Kenna. Along with several other useful plants, Hui cultivated it in a well-guarded corner of the estate near the rear wall. I had not yet used it in any prescription, but Hui had told me that it was a good sleep drug in cases where a patient must be cut open. He also sometimes gave it to women who were barren, perhaps because its peculiar root was shaped like the penis of a man. I had handled the root without gloves and my skin had come out in an ugly rash, much to Disenk’s dismay. Its ripe fruit could be safely eaten. Unripe, it killed. What I liked most about it, however, was that in doses a little over the edge of safety it would produce vomitin
g and diarrhea. The thought of Kenna laid low in this embarrassing manner made me smile. When he began to recover I would give him some more, and I would keep doing so until, weak and rendered completely incompetent for his work as Hui’s body servant, he would be sent away.
My problem, however, was simple. I intended to feed the love apple to Kenna in the beer he usually called for. Therefore I could not use any solid part of the plant. He would have to drink his nemesis. I would have to grind the dried stem and a few leaves, soak the result in water, and add that to the beer. I had no idea how much of the tainted water would be effective, nor could I imagine how to experiment with it.
Obtaining stem and leaves was not difficult. Perhaps two days out of the week Hui was abroad in the city or in the temples and I was left to work happily by myself. I simply removed what I needed from the appropriate jar, ground it with mortar and pestle, and transferred it to another container which I filled with water and hid behind other sealed jugs on the highest shelf. I did not know how long to leave it there to brew, but surely a week would be long enough. Besides, I was afraid that if I left it longer it would be discovered and I would somehow have to explain its presence. I dreamed of it night after night, irrationally afraid that I would enter the office to find it gone, to find that Kenna knew all about it and was going to show it to the Master, to find Hui standing there grimly holding it up as I hurried to begin my work. Twice during that week I earned a reprimand from Hui, for I could not keep my mind or my eyes on the tasks before me. All my attention was fixed on the invisible jar nestling in its hiding place.
House of Dreams Page 18