City of Lies

by Anton Gill

‘Very little.’

  Samut’s smile vanished. ‘Don’t be cagey, Huy. I am your friend. She told you the princess was mad.’

  ‘She said she was worried about her.’

  ‘Do not believe her, Huy.’ The merchant’s manner relaxed again, but only slightly. ‘Come, I know where your sympathy lies. Otherwise why would have you have agreed to help Ankhsi find out who wants her dead. And there is another thing. If it were not for you, Ankhsi would not be alive anyway – she would never have left the Southern Capital. She has told me how you rescued her.’

  How could Huy explain that his actions had had nothing to do with politics? At the time, Ankhsi had been a frightened girl and he had saved her because she had become his responsibility. Perhaps too, because there was no reason not to save her. He could not have foreseen what the gods had determined would become of her.

  ‘Who do you think is trying to kill her?’

  Samut’s expression became guarded again. ‘Horemheb.’

  Huy looked at him. That was certainly what Ankhsi seemed to think. ‘Does your heart tell you of anyone else?’ he asked.

  ‘I would know. My spies are good.’

  Huy looked inwards. People with power know that others will spy on them and so they will guard their real secrets with care – they will throw titbits to the spies to keep them happy. Huy did not flatter himself that he was more than a titbit. But he still could not see why Takhana had tried to seduce him. To get him into her power? There was something unfathomable about the woman, something mysterious and – he had to admit it to himself – exciting. Or was it only because she was exotic? People usually had practical reasons for what they did – if they were not mad.

  ‘Takhana wants you on her side,’ said Samut.

  ‘Does she know of your plans?’

  ‘No! None of them do. It would be fatal to us if they did.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because if our plan succeeds, we will destroy them.’

  Huy looked at the merchant again. ‘Why?’ he asked again.

  Samut poured wine. ‘Nesptah’s strength must be broken in the south. He is too powerful.’

  Huy wondered whether Samut’s own ambitions were not, after all, based less on ideology and a desire to see the rightful heir on the throne, than on simple business rivalry, albeit on a grand scale.

  ‘Why should she want me on her side?’

  ‘Because you are Ankhsi’s friend.’ Samut paused. ‘And because she enjoys such things,’ he added. ‘You have exchanged words with Senseneb.’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Huy, wondering how Samut knew, and realising in the same breath that Psaro would have told him. But it was not such a great secret.

  ‘Anything that weakens Ankhsi strengthens Takhana. If Takhana could sow discord in your house, she would bring misery to Ankhsi’s adviser and her physician at once. It would be sweet to her to do that.’

  ‘But why does she hate Ankhsi?’

  Samut lowered his eyes. ‘I have said too much. There are some things you need not know.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  Samut looked at him. ‘Because Ankhsi is married to her brother.’

  Huy looked at him sharply. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Nothing. A sister can love her brother and be jealous of his wife. There is nothing strange in that at all. But Takhana resents Ankhsi because it was Nesptah, her husband, who devised the match.’

  ‘Devised?’

  ‘Ordered, if you like.’

  ‘Tascherit didn’t want it?’

  ‘He saw what he could gain by it. And he has what he wanted. Money and command of a town. A very rich town. Richer than the pharaoh knows – or ever will know, if Nesptah has his way.’

  Huy thought about the absent Nesptah, who even when he was away seemed to have such a hold of the hearts of the people of the town.

  ‘Did you see Nesptah in Napata?’ Huy asked the merchant.

  ‘No. He had left for the granite quarries he operates for Ay near the second cataract. But we do not meet often.’

  ‘Does he know anything of your plans?’

  Samut smiled again. ‘No.’

  ‘Can you be sure?’

  ‘Yes. If he did I would be dead.’

  Huy paused before speaking again. Then he said, ‘But Reniqer is dead.’

  Samut had been on the point of drinking. Now he stopped the movement of the cup to his lips, and gazed at Huy across its rim with eyes that made the scribe think of a rudderless ship.

  ‘I was going to speak of Reniqer,’ he said.

  Huy waited.

  ‘Reniqer knew nothing of what I plan for the princess,’ said Samut, slowly. ‘He was my business partner and no more. But his very innocence made him perfect to bring a message to you from her after the first two attempts on her life. I never saw them as accidents, you see.’

  ‘But why was he killed?’

  ‘Nesptah had him followed to the Southern Capital. That was unusual because it was a routine business journey. I do not know exactly how or when it happened, but he was shadowed while he was in the Capital, and there was someone on the boat he was travelling back on.’

  ‘But he was killed after he had done all that he had to do, after he had delivered Ankhsi’s message to me.’

  ‘Nesptah allowed Reniqer to do his business in the Capital because he wanted to see where it led him. I believe he suspected that there was more to the journey than simply work. By the grace of the great god, Reniqer’s business with you as your land agent perfectly covered the delivery of Ankhsi’s message – as I knew it would, or I would not have entrusted it to him.’ He was silent for a moment, looking out over the River again. ‘You will meet Nesptah when he returns. He is a man who walks with demons. When he saw that he had found out nothing, and yet was sure that there was something, he had Reniqer killed as a safety measure. What news Reniqer might have carried in his heart for me would die with the messenger – and they would have searched his belongings for anything written before throwing them overboard. ’

  ‘But Nesptah will know I have seen you, and seen Ankhsi.’

  Samut looked at him. ‘I am Reniqer’s partner and you, as his client, would naturally come to me after his death. The fact that you are Ankhsi’s friend from the Southern Capital is no secret, and you came here with Ay’s blessing.’ He turned his gaze back to the scene beyond the window. The only thing moving on the River now was a little red fishing boat dawdling in midstream. What fishermen were doing out at this hour was a mystery. Perhaps the boat had been hired by a hunting party, going after birds in the rushes with throwsticks and retriever cats.

  ‘Nesptah is alert, and trusts his instinct,’ he continued. ‘You have done nothing to arouse suspicion. Tascherit is too foolish and centred on himself to think ill – or indeed, much at all – of anyone; and I made certain that my man who works as a servant for Takhana would not completely prevent you from drinking her tainted wine, so that she will still think she has a chance with you. But still we must be cautious.’ Samut came round the table and stood close to Huy. ‘It is said that Nesptah can call up the Undead to help him. You may think that is nonsense, that only villagers and countrymen still believe in the power to control spirits. But we must not underestimate him.’

  As he left, Huy wondered where, after all, he should place his belief. In such a town as this, perhaps only in himself. He should have made his way home but he needed to be alone to think, and so he turned his steps towards that part of any town which most appealed to him, the harbour quarter.

  ‘This hurts!’ cried Ankhesenamun, as Senseneb unwound the linen bandages and gingerly pulled away the padding from the wound. Senseneb looked at it gravely, but there seemed to be none of the unclean colours there that would have meant she would have had to cut away to the good flesh, to prevent the Sickness-that-eats-the-living from spreading and killing her patient as surely as her would-be assassin had intended to. The boy had recovered too, and Senseneb rejoiced in her heart.
<
br />   She swabbed the wound with oil and palm wine, and cleaned it with water that had been boiled three times. It was a long operation and she used much linen.

  ‘You will be well,’ she told her patient.

  ‘I will be, as long as I know that my son has not been harmed.’

  ‘He will live. Do not let the night come into your heart.’

  ‘He is my life now.’

  Senseneb was concerned at the vehemence with which Ankhsi spoke, though she spoke softly. ‘Do not let a child become too precious,’ she said. ‘Osiris takes them to him without a thought.’

  ‘But not this one.’ Ankhsi looked hard at her friend. ‘You know what his life means.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Ankhsi turned away. ‘You speak more with politeness than conviction.

  ‘I am working. It is on my work that my heart must concentrate.’

  ‘Must you bind it up again?’

  ‘Yes! Look! It is still raw. There will be a scar. It will not mar you, but it will be there. And now the khat must be protected. You must rest. I must care for you.’

  ‘It is good that you are here,’ said Ankhsi. She turned again to face her friend and took her hand. ‘I have told you why little Amenophis is so precious to me, but there is another reason apart from the hope I have for him.’

  Senseneb was not certain she wanted to be drawn into such a conversation. It was hard to recognise the girl she had known in the Southern Capital when she looked at the woman who was now her mistress and her patient. It was hard to remember the friendship which they had had. It was hard not to stay on formal terms, but Senseneb was not sure that she did not prefer formality now. Something hovered in the air between them, and Senseneb was unsure that she liked it, though she could not define it.

  ‘Can you imagine how lonely it is here?’ said Ankhsi, her eyes appealing with something like desperation now that she had overcome her pride, and clinging to Senseneb’s hand. ‘I never thought that you could make a prison out of yourself, but I have.’

  ‘You need not be in prison if you do not want to be.’

  ‘I have learned that the most pitiless gaoler is yourself,’ said Ankhsi. ‘That is why my son means so much. He is the link with what I was when I was happy, when I had a place in life that meant something to me. He stands for the part of me that is my Name, that is the part which lives still while this part is dead.’ Her hand tightened its grip. ‘Why did you come to Meroe?’

  Senseneb was taken aback. ‘Huy wanted to come here. He said he was suffocating in the Southern Capital. And you asked me to come.’ She said nothing of her own reservations and ambition, which had each pulled her in separate directions.

  ‘This place is a prison, too. I am in a prison within a prison. But soon I will be free.’

  ‘You have your new husband, your new family – ’ Senseneb was at a loss. Ankhsi seemed able and unable to take her entirely into her confidence. At the mention of her husband she looked as if her bowels had withered within her.

  ‘My new family knows how to look after its own,’ she said.

  The words invited a question but Senseneb hesitated. Though she had said nothing to Huy, she had for some time now felt that hidden eyes were upon her. She tried never to be alone, and if now and then she were, to use streets and pathways that were crowded.

  ‘Has Huy told you what I told him?’ asked Ankshi, finally.

  Senseneb had been waiting for this moment, wondering how she would answer, not wanting to be involved, wishing she were in a city big enough to hide in – if such a place existed – or at least, and now the significance of Ankhsi's words hit her – somewhere she could run from. She was not a coward, but she preferred to let those who wanted power struggle between themselves for it; yet she also knew that when Khnum throws the clay on the potter’s wheel to create the person and the person’s ka the god does not expect what he has made to turn its back on the life into which he then thrusts it. Senseneb knew that she had to accept what fate brought her, and let herself be carried where the Falcon flew with her.

  ‘Yes. Something of it.’

  ‘You were sent here to save my child for his destiny.’

  Senseneb looked into eyes that were those of her friend, and at the same time of a stranger.

  ‘My job is to save life and make well.’

  ‘You ignore the mystery.’

  Senseneb was silent.

  ‘You do not think what I do is good?’

  ‘I cannot say. It is dangerous.’

  ‘What great thing was ever safe?’

  Senseneb had finished re-dressing the wound, and now began winding the clean linen bandages round her friend’s slim brown body. Once finished, she had the attendants settle Ankhsi back on her bed, resting her against rolls of wadded linen to support her back. Then she gave orders for the wet-nurse to bring in the child. His wound had healed quickly and he beamed at her from the folds of byssus in which he was swaddled.

  ‘Has Huy told you what he feels in his heart about what I intend?’

  ‘You know him. He keeps his heart to himself often.’

  ‘He is against it.’ Ankhsi looked worried. ‘I cannot feel confident if I do not have his support.’

  Senseneb was again silent. She knew that Huy had no faith in the plan. Anything that threatened the order of the Black Land now would be fatal to it, and the truth was that Ay’s claim to sit on the Golden Chair was a just one. Yet Samut seemed a good man, and one who would not embark on any venture that did not have some chance of success. In any event, it was not in her power to alter the way matters would run, and she was glad of it. In her heart she saw a dark future for her friend and her son.

  ‘Why are you unhappy here?’ she asked, making an effort to shake off the gloom which had descended on her.

  ‘You know why. I have told you and you can read my heart. You are foolish to try to make conversation,’ Ankhsi rebuked her instantly. She turned restlessly on the bed. ‘I must get away from here before they can try to kill me again.’

  ‘Tascherit will protect you.’

  ‘It is his duty, even if he does not love me. Perhaps he will, if it is in his interest to do so.’

  The bitterness in Ankhsi’s voice was a needle in Senseneb’s heart. ‘Does he not love you?’

  ‘What is love? Certainly not something we expect or deserve. It is a luxury. Does Huy love you?’

  ‘I think so,’ but Senseneb was not sure.

  ‘But he is a good man and he will care for you. That matters more.’ Again she turned a look of despair on her friend.

  Senseneb came to a decision. ‘You must tell me what is wrong. I cannot refuse to hear you or to be involved. And if it is necessary for you to leave here, we will find a way to take you.’

  Ankhsi’s expression became fierce.

  ‘I cannot leave. Not until this thing is done. Not until we are ready to move. I am entered too far into this. I will not ruin my son’s chance. I desire it! He must be king!’

  ‘But if you are both in danger here...’

  Her eyes turned dull again. ‘Tascherit will protect me. He must.’

  Senseneb chose her words cautiously. ‘Do you also desire more children?’

  ‘By him?’ Ankhsi laughed.

  ‘Speak to me. Let me share what your heart carries.’

  Ankhsi sighed, letting go of her friend’s hand. ‘When I met Tascherit I think he saw in me someone he wanted to walk in truth with; it was not just that I was of the pharaoh’s house; it could not have been, because I was friendless and alone, and above all, I had no power. But he took me and cared for me and indeed looked after my little boy when he was born and loves him still – there is no doubt of that, and I am sure he has not even told his sister who Amenophis really is.’

  ‘But he made you a promise of secrecy.’

  ‘He is not a great keeper of promises; but this one he has kept for the child’s sake.’

  ‘Why, what would happen to him if Takhana knew he wa
s not Tascherit’s son?’

  ‘If not Takhana, then Nesptah, I think, would have him killed.’

  Senseneb was appalled. ‘But why?’

  ‘To gain credit with Horemheb. I think Nesptah supports him. That is why there is no rebellion here when there should be, while the great part of the army is fighting in the north.’

  ‘Other than the rebellion you propose,’ said Seseneb drily.

  Ankhsi looked at her. ‘It is a just cause.’

  ‘People use those words.’

  ‘You are no longer my friend!’

  ‘It is because I am your friend that I speak like this.’

  ‘I would like to believe that. It gets so complicated that you simply have to place belief somewhere. It is like a light to guide you through.’

  ‘Some lights guide in the wrong direction.’

  ‘You cannot dissuade me from what I am doing. You forget that my husband was murdered by Horemheb.’

  Something in her tone had distressed the baby at her side, who impulsively pulled away from the breast at which he had been quietly suckling, causing the wet-nurse to gasp. Scrabbling frantically at the air with his hands and feet, he screwed up his face and bawled. Ankhsi leant over and stroked his tiny brow with her hand, cooing a song. Senseneb’s dead birth cave cried within her as she watched. But her heart had other matters to work on too: Nesptah an ally of Horemheb? Did Huy know of this? It was possible that Ankhsi had told him, but that he had not passed this dangerous knowledge on to her. She would speak to him of it.

  ‘There is more,’ Ankhsi, having stilled her son, continued. ‘But I do not know how to tell you. It is easy for you not to believe in demons when you have lived safe inside the Southern Capital; but when you are here, when there are red mountains and emptiness all around you beyond the River, where people live who are far from what you know, you begin to call into your heart the demons of childhood, the demons that existed in the countryside before my father’s time, and which I believe he never truly banished from the Black Land.’

  Senseneb was silent, recalling the hidden eyes she had felt upon her often since arriving here.

  ‘Takhana has a power over my husband,’ continued Ankhsi, hesitantly. ‘She makes him do what she wants. She is a person of fire and he is a person of water, but there is more too it. I believe... I believe he neglects me for her. There are few things he would not do for her.’