House of Illusions (32 page)

“So that is what happened to Thu’s child,” he said. “I have sometimes wondered but my father has kept his counsel. I repeat my earlier question now to you. What evidence is there for such a foul accusation?”

“If Kamen were here, as he should have been had the General not arrested him,” Men answered, “he would be able to tell you better than I. The General sent your brother south to Aswat as escort for the very man commanded to assassinate him. Kamen began to suspect the man’s true purpose, but he could not be sure until the moment when he attacked Thu. Then Kamen killed him. His body is buried under the floor of Thu’s hut in Aswat. If your Highness will send men there, they will find it as I have said.”

“Paiis,” Ramses said. “Do you have any objection if I do as the merchant has requested?”

“Do not contribute to their fantasy, Highness,” Paiis replied, and for the first time I saw the mask of his selfconfidence slip. A sweat had broken out along his upper lip and he was glancing nervously towards the door. “It is all a total fabrication.”

“That is not an answer.” The Prince pointed at the bag now slung over my shoulder. “What have you brought, Kaha?” I did not want to part with it yet, not until I knew whether or not Paiis would triumph, but now I had no choice. Reluctantly I set it on the floor and opened it.

“Thu has spent the last seventeen years writing an account of her downfall from the time the Seer took her away from Aswat,” I told him. “She gave it to Kamen and begged him to bring it to the attention of Pharaoh as she had begged so many travellers before. She did not know she was speaking to her son. Kamen took it, and like a good officer he went with it to his superior, namely the General. It disappeared. But Thu was clever. She had made a copy.” I lifted it and held it out to him. “Guard it well, Highness. It is a compelling document.” Ramses took it and smiled. The sight sent a chill through me, for all his divine power, all the acuteness of his perception, was gathered in the slow parting of those painted lips.

“You may sit, all of you,” he said. “Take some refreshment while we wait. It seems as though I will not be feasting tonight.” He snapped his fingers and a servant came forward. I did not want to sit. I was too tense. But obediently I folded onto a chair and my two companions did likewise. No one dared to ask what we were waiting for. “You also, Paiis,” the Prince said curtly. “Over there.” He indicated a chair by his desk, and I noticed with a surge of hope that it was the one farthest away from the door. Paiis knew it too. He hesitated briefly, then lowered himself and crossed his legs.

The Prince seemed quite at ease in the silence that followed. He seated himself behind his desk, proceeded to unroll one of the numerous scrolls, and began to read while we watched him anxiously. The servant poured wine for us into silver goblets and passed the honey cakes. We drank a little. Suddenly Ramses said without looking up, “Is my brother still alive, Paiis?”

“But of course, Highness,” Paiis responded with a mild indignation that deceived no one.

“Good,” was the grunted response. The room sank into silence once more.

About an hour passed before the door opened and the scribe came hurrying forward. He was clutching a scroll. Bowing, he approached the desk. The Prince did not stir. “Your pardon, Highness,” the man said, “but the archives were deserted and I had to go in search of the archivist. He was at the feast and was difficult to find in the crowd. Then it took him some time to discover the scroll you requested. But here it is.” Ramses nodded.

“Read it to us,” he said. The scribe unrolled it.

“To the Lord of All Life, the Divine Ramses, greetings,” he intoned. “My dearest Master. Five men, including your illustrious son the Prince Ramses, are even now sitting in judgement upon me for a terrible crime. According to law I may not defend myself in their presence but I may petition you, the upholder of Ma’at and supreme arbiter of justice in Egypt, to hear in person the words I wish to speak with regard to the charge against me. Therefore, I beg you, for the love you once bore me, to remember all that we shared and grant me the privilege of one last opportunity to stand in your presence. There are circumstances in this matter that I wish to divulge to you alone. Criminals may make this claim in an effort to avert their fate. But I assure you, my King, that I am more used than guilty. In your great discernment I ask you to ponder these names.”

The scribe paused. As he did so the realization of what I was hearing suddenly broke over me and my breath caught. I had been right in my vague but persistent suspicion that Pharaoh knew who the plotters were, had known all these years, because Thu had told him. In the final extremity of her terror she had whispered the names to a scribe who had dutifully carried them to the King. That was why her life had been spared. Evidence had been lacking, but Ramses, being a merciful God, had given Thu the benefit of his doubt. She had worded her desperate last plea with grace and I had a momentary flush of pride. I had taught her well. I must have made a sound, for the Prince’s head turned towards me.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Paiis. He was no longer lounging back in his chair. He was sitting upright, hands gripping his knees, and he looked pale. The scribe went on reading, listing the names of those who had fired my youthful zeal and imagination and perverted the eager girl from Aswat. Hui the Seer. Paibekamun the High Steward. Mersura the Chancellor. Panauk, Royal Scribe of the Harem. Pentu, Scribe of the Double House of Life. General Banemus and his sister the Lady Hunro. General Paiis. Thu had not placed me or her body servant, Disenk, among the guilty, although she must have deduced at the time the part we both had played in her manipulation. Perhaps she had felt a fleeting sympathy for us as people like herself, commoners without the avenues of potential escape open to those of nobler birth. “I implore Your Majesty to believe that these nobles, among the most powerful in Egypt, do not love you and through me have tried to destroy you. They will try again.” The Prince waved the man to silence.

“Enough,” he said. Rising, he came around the desk and perched on its edge. “That scroll was dictated by Thu of Aswat almost seventeen years ago, three days before she was sentenced to death,” he went on conversationally. “My father read it, and because of it, sent her into exile instead of to the Underworld, a fate better, I think, than she deserved. He is a just King, and would not allow execution as long as there was any doubt as to the guiltiness of the criminal. Later he showed me this scroll. We watched and waited but no further attempts were made on his august life and he began to wonder if she had lied and he should have let her die.”

The royal calf began to swing to and fro, the seeds of jasper and green turquoise sprinkled over his sandals catching the light and glinting at the movement. He spread his hands, hennaed palms up. He might have been expounding on a point of government or a hunting technique, this handsome man with his dark eyes and perfectly fashioned body, but none of us were fooled. He was the Hawk in the Nest, the very understatement of his posture and casual tones only serving to emphasize his invincibility. He was the arbiter of our fate and we all knew it.

“Now this,” Ramses went on. “If I were faced with a lesser crime committed so long ago I should perhaps dismiss the matter, reasoning that time and a slow maturing might render any punishment nonsensical. But treason and attempted regicide cannot be so easily ignored.”

“Highness, there is no proof of either on the part of anyone named in that scroll!” Paiis broke in. “Nothing but words of envy and bitterness!” Ramses swung to him.

“Envy and bitterness?” he repeated. “It may be. But will a human being under the crushing weight of certain death spew forth lies? I do not think so, for he, or she, knows that the Judgement Hall is only a few heartbeats away.” Now he slid from the desk, and leaning against it, folded his arms. “What if Thu told the truth?” he mused. “And Kaha here? What if there are plotters, and these plotters, having failed in their aim, bide their time until a new Pharaoh comes to the throne? And what if they decide that the new Incarnation of the God is not to their liking either, General Paiis? What if they make regicide a habit? No. I cannot ignore this.” He came to his full height and his shoulders went back. He jerked an imperious finger at one of the patient servants. “Bring me one of my Commanders,” he ordered. “And you,” he pointed at another one, “go to the banqueting hall and tell my wife that I will not be eating publicly tonight. Then go to my father, and if he is not sleeping, tell him that I wish to consult him later.” The two men hurried out. Paiis slid to the edge of his chair.

“Your Highness, I am the most senior of your generals here in Pi-Ramses,” he said. “You do not need to send for a Commander. Command me.” The Prince smiled and lifted his wine cup.

“Oh I do not think so, General Paiis,” he said gently. “Not this time.” He drank meditatively, savouring the bouquet, then licked his lips. “Forgive me if my trust in you should temporarily waver.”

“I stand rebuked.”

“Pray fervently that a rebuke is all you will receive!” the Prince shouted. Paiis did not seem perturbed. One of his eyebrows twitched. He patted his thighs twice and regained his seat. I unwillingly admired his self-control.

The Commander appeared shortly. He strode to the Prince and made his obeisance, then stood imperturbably to receive his orders. I saw his glance flick briefly in the direction of the General before returning to Ramses’ face. “You are to take twenty men of my own division of Horus,” Ramses told him deliberately. “Escort General Paiis to his estate. He is under house arrest.” The man’s expression did not change, but I saw his blunt fingers curl suddenly against the hilt of his sword. “If more men are necessary to keep him there, then detail them. The General is not to leave his arouras on pain of extreme discipline. You personally are not to leave his side until a search of his holdings is made and the merchant’s son, Kamen, is found there. Kamen is to be treated with respect and brought here, to me, at once. I want a similar detachment to surround the home of the Seer. He also is under house arrest. Send to the harem guards and the Keeper of the Door and tell them that the Lady Hunro is under no circumstances to leave the precinct. The same injunction applies to Chancellor Mersura and the Scribe Panauk. Pentu the Scribe who plies his trade in the Double House of Life must be taken to the prisons of the city for interrogation.”

In singling out Pentu for direct incarceration, Ramses had placed his finger unerringly on a weak link in the chain of conspiracy and he knew it. Pentu, like me, had no recourse to the higher echelons of power and would break under pressure. He had been little more than a messenger for Hui and the others, rarely entering their houses, receiving second hand from the Stewards the words he was to carry. I had seen him no more than twice during my time with Hui, and I did not think that Thu had seen him at all. He was guilty only of keeping his counsel, but he knew more than was safe. The Prince had proved himself capable of a subtle perception, and we had won the first round, Kamen, Thu and I. We had won!

“Send a captain you can trust south into Nubia,” Ramses was continuing crisply. “He is to tell the General Banemus that he too is under arrest and is not to leave his post until a replacement can be found. Then he is to be brought back under guard to Pi-Ramses. I want the members of my division to join the city police in searching for a woman, Thu of Aswat. The police doubtless have a description of her. Or have you got her also, Paiis?” He did not even bother to look at the General.

“No,” was all Paiis said.

“She is to be taken into the harem and guarded carefully. Are your orders clear? Repeat them. And one other thing. Send an officer and men to Aswat. They are to disinter and bring to Pi-Ramses a body that they will probably find under the hut of this same Thu. I will dictate a scroll of authority to be taken south to Nubia and one for the officer who will be in charge of Hui’s house arrest.” The Commander repeated the words, and at the Prince’s dismissal, saluted and left. But he soon returned, and the room filled with soldiers. Paiis did not wait to be handled. He rose.

“You are making a grave mistake, Highness,” he said coolly, and his eyes, as he looked at his superior, were like black glass. Ramses at last faced him directly.

“It may be so,” he said, “and if it is so then you will be exonerated and restored to your position of authority and my trust. If your conscience is clear, you may rest in the knowledge that Ma’at will vindicate you. But I do not think so, my General,” he finished in a whisper. “No, I do not.” For a second I saw the hardness of Paiis’s eyes light with a flash of clean hatred that revealed to me in all its nakedness the envy, ambition and petty arrogance that had consumed him all his life and had brought him to this end. It had not been enough for him that he belonged to one of the oldest and most revered families in Egypt. Paiis wanted to rule. Paiis wanted the throne with the army behind him.

The Prince and his General stared at each other, then Ramses’ shoulders slumped. “Take him to his house,” he said. We watched as the soldiers surrounded Paiis and marched him to the door. I had expected a parting glance or a word of acrimony from him but there was nothing, and in a moment the room seemed empty. The Prince turned to us. “As for you Nesiamun, Men, Kaha, go home,” he said. He looked suddenly very weary. “I will take Thu’s manuscript to my father, and we will read it together. When I have spoken with my brother, I will send him back to his betrothed. Go now.”

“Thank you, Highness,” Men said. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” We scrambled up immediately, made our reverences, and walked out into the night. Nesiamun drew in deep breaths of the fragrant air.

“It is good,” he sighed. “But I feel I have aged ten years in these few hours. You were not arrested for your part in it all, Kaha. Perhaps you will be pardoned.”

“Perhaps,” I answered, and followed my Master into the dimness.