Suzanne Robinson (13 page)

Anqet warmed to the compassion in Sennefer’s voice. He too had suffered from Seth’s aggression. How kind of him to feel responsible for her, a stranger. Would there be any harm in letting Sennefer send her to Menana’s house?

“Near Memphis there is a town called South Wall. I would like to go there in a few days to see the man who wishes to marry me.”

There was a small pause while Sennefer examined a ring on one of his fingers.

“I will arrange an escort,” he said. Sennefer put his hand on Anqet’s forearm. “When you are ready to go, come to my house in the Avenue of the Sacred Sycamore. Are you sure you won’t come at once?”

Anqet lowered her eyes. Sennefer’s hand was still on her arm, and she noticed the heavy silver ring on his third finger. It had a flat bezel into which was etched an ostrich feather, symbol of truth. A strange design, to show only the one hieroglyph and nothing else. In order to invoke the magical protection of Maat, goddess of truth and patroness of justice, one usually wore the image of the deity herself.

“You’re upset and confused. I shouldn’t let my urge to reform my brother blind me to the fact that you know less of me than of Seth. I’ll wait until you ask for help.”

Anqet felt a wave of gratitude that threatened to send her into tears.

“You are kind, my lord. May thy ka find peace.”

Sennefer brought his hand to her cheek. Anqet didn’t shy away when he kissed her lightly on the forehead.

Lord Sennefer stood up and gave her his hand to steady her as she rose. Anqet was surprised to feel his hand shake as it lay on her arm. She was about to ask if he
was ill when Seth’s brother excused himself abruptly and plunged down a path toward the palace.

Anqet didn’t wait for anyone else to come searching for her She found her way to the workshops and slipped down the black path to her storehouse hiding place. She put her foot on a crack in the roof in climbing over the ledge of the building. Her leg plunged into the wood and mud-brick beneath. Luckily she caught the ledge and pulled herself back before she lost balance. Her leg was scraped a bit and bruised, but not seriously hurt. Anqet knelt down and propped her arms on the ledge to wait for Count Seth and Lord Merab.

There was no moon by the time Merab slunk around the comer of the storehouse. Anqet’s eyes were heavy-lidded and dry. She had to force them open to make out the square blob of darkness that was Merab. Leaning over the edge of the roof, she heard a curious smacking sound that helped her locate him.

What was that noise? It was a wet, mouthy sound. Merab was eating again, but he’d chosen to vary his diet. Probably dates. Sticky, mushy dates.

A tall silhouette floated up next to Merab. In the darkness, Anqet could see little more than the vague froth of a court robe, but the height and slender grace of the figure spoke for itself.

She leaned out over the edge of the wall. They would decide to whisper She couldn’t hear them. Plague take them. They hadn’t been so quiet before.

Ah! If she laid her head sideways, she could just make out a few words.

“Heretic.” “Old heretic … one large haul … place to store … dupe.”

There was a pause. The two moved away. Count Seth started to leave first, but turned back.

“Change …”

What had he said? “Change” something, and “further,” or was it “father”?

Anqet sat down on the roof. What was she going to do if Count Seth and Merab continued to speak so softly?
There wasn’t anywhere else that offered a chance to eavesdrop. She couldn’t lie on top of the wide outer wall; they might see her. Anyway, she wasn’t sure she could leap the distance between it and the storehouse. The gap must be over six cubits. She would have to ask the god Osiris to make the criminals speak a little louder in the future.

Seth had fed Meki roast duck and left him curled up on the balcony. He was a few paces outside his room when the treasurer of the Two Lands came charging down the hall and almost collided with him. Maya was a small man with a slight paunch and flat feet that reminded Seth of bow cases.

Seth stepped out of the way of those feet. “My lord Maya, what causes this haste?”

“Com—Commander. Pharaoh—”
Puff, puff.
“Pharaoh—”
Puff
.

Seth scowled at the treasurer “Say it, man. Has Pharaoh sent for me?”

Maya shook his head. His wig was askew, and he was sweating.

“Hurry, my lord. Terrible.”

“Terrible?” Seth raced toward the royal apartments with Maya in tow. “Is the king hurt? Talk!”

“Not hurt. It was the message. He turned so pale. Threw everyone out, even Prince Khai. Won’t speak. Not to the Divine Father, not to General Horemheb, not to me.”

Seth rounded a corner and charged at the great double doors where the chief bodyguard was already waiting. He left Maya behind as he ran through the state rooms and into the foyer that led to the king’s bedchamber Ay and Horemheb stood before the closed door The vizier stared at the door as if it could speak while Horemheb paced in front of it.

Horemheb stopped as Seth approached. “Maya told you? He won’t speak to us. He read the message, and now
he won’t even let us stay in the room. Seth, lad, you must try.”

The vizier made way for Seth. As the younger man passed, Ay spoke. “Be careful. Whatever is wrong touches him intimately. If you hurt him, I’ll have you torn apart by your own horses.”

Seth didn’t bother to reply. He slipped inside the bedchamber The only light came from a lamp of alabaster set on a table beside the canopy that surrounded the king’s bed. Seth glanced around the room, but it was larger than three ordinary bedrooms and the lamp cast an aura of light only in its immediate vicinity. He went to the lamp. It rested on a table of the same gilt wood as the king’s bed. Tutankhamun wasn’t within the curtains of the canopy. The sheets on the bed were in disarray. Seth stood still. He waited and listened.

“An odd chance that they should send you.”

Seth sank to his knees. Tutankhamun moved toward him out of the blackness to his right. The king stopped beside Seth and stared at the lamp. In profile, his face was immobile, stiff. Framed by softly curling hair cut short to accommodate his heavy wigs and crowns, there was a pinched look about the boy’s face, and especially the mouth. Seth could see the king’s jaw clench, the muscles below his cheekbone twitch. He knew from experience that these signs indicated great trauma in the youth’s soul.

“An odd chance,” the king repeated. He held out his hand and helped Seth rise. In his other hand he held a papyrus roll tied with a gold cord. Tutankhamun loosened the cord and spread the ends of the sheet. It was the hymn to the sun-god Aten written by the boy’s dead brother, Pharaoh Akhenaten. “He gave this to me the year before he died. I was too young to appreciate it.”

Tutankhamun’s voice shook as he recited the words from memory. “Your brother and the priests of Amun-Ra
would be horrified to know that I still keep this.” The king let the roll drop to the table and covered his face with his hands. “They broke into his tomb, smashed everything they couldn’t take with them. They even ripped open his coffin to get at the jewelry. They t-tore him and tried to destroy his body so that his ka couldn’t seek revenge. I d-don’t even know if there’s enough of him left to rebury.” Tutankhamun’s head shot up. “You don’t understand, do you.”

“I understand that you grieve, my Pharaoh. No matter how I feel about gods, I understand grief all too well.” Seth placed a hand on the king’s arm and guided him to sit on the edge of the bed. He sank to the floor beside the youth. “You thought you had given him the peace he never found in this life. You thought that by leaving him near the city he built for his god, you would make him happy, and at the same time lay to rest the wounds he made in the harmony of the Two Lands. You thought he would be safe and free, as you cannot be, being pharaoh in his place.”

As he had intended, the bald truths unleashed Tutankhamun’s pent-up sorrow. Seth held the boy and stroked his hair as the tears flowed. Tears that no one must see, for since becoming pharaoh, Tutankhamun was not allowed mortality.

“My wife,” the king said after a while. “She already blames me for his death.”

“You were nine when her father died.”

“I was the one everyone wanted in his stead. Now she will hate me even more.”

Seth shook his head. “Majesty, you know she is unbalanced. Look elsewhere for woman’s love.”

“She is my duty,” the king said. He pulled his body erect and wiped his wet face with the corner of a sheet. “I know. You are going to say that I have more than enough to worry about. You will tell me to dismiss her from my mind as I have from my presence. You are right.”

The king stood up. “Ay and Horemheb were wise to send you, after all.” Tutankhamun gestured for Seth to
stand. He faced the older man, trust plain in his young-old eyes.

“Find the ones responsible. Do this for me, as my friend, not as my subject.”

“Majesty.” Seth gave the king a smile that reflected a ravenous desire for vengeance. “I would like nothing better than to meet the man responsible for your sorrow, the man who dares the curse of the gods.”

Count Seth’s laughter could cut as deeply as his dagger.

Anqet watched Lord Merab writhe under an onslaught of acid wit. Eager to be done with spying, she balanced on the ledge of the storehouse two nights after her encounter with Seth in his chambers. Last night no one had appeared. Tonight the two men were being quite accommodating. They stood where moonlight struck them and spoke so that she could hear almost everything they said

“I’m surprised you had the courage to try it,” Seth said. “But then, you must have had help. I’m beginning to think you have help from someone most highly placed. After all, there are the necropolis police to be bribed, and mortuary priests to suborn.”

Merab squirmed. “I manage.”

“No you don’t,” Seth said. “Someone with much more influence than you rules this kingdom of thieves. If I’m to risk my head in this venture of yours, I want to know who benefits.” Seth’s voice lashed through the night air “Who is your master?”

“No one may know that. Not even you.”

Anqet leaned out over the ledge, engrossed in the confrontation below. The count lounged against the wall of the storehouse. He wore a short kilt, and a leather soldier’s corselet molded itself to his chest. His lean body and his elegance made Lord Merab look as common as a pair of muddy sandals.

“Merab,” Seth said with the caressing tones of a snake’s hiss, “if you want to use one of my estates as a
storage depot for this royal booty of yours, you will arrange for me to meet this prince of tomb robbers. Come, I know your arrangements for a warehouse fell through.”

“You can’t refuse to help now! I’ve passed instructions along. It’s too late to change.”

Seth wrapped his hand around the thief’s neck. Merab gurgled and pawed at the count’s arm, but Seth only increased the pressure on his throat.

“Ghhhhh,”
Merab said.

“I don’t believe I understood you.”

“Aaaaaaath.”

Seth let the man go. Merab heaved and choked, clutching his throat.

“How would you like to work in the gold mines of Nubia, Merab? Think of it. Desert heat, no water Day after day of heating rock and then hammering it out of the earth alongside murderers and thieves. It is said that few last as long as two years in the mines. In the season of Drought, it’s so hot that the color of the rock fades.”

“You can’t.”

Seth went on as if Merab hadn’t spoken. “No one would know where you’d gone.”

Merab took an involuntary step backward. Anqet leaned even further over the edge. She braced herself on the corner of the ledge, avid to learn the name of Merab’s leader.

Merab swallowed. He looked like an oryx caught between a bull elephant and a lion. “He would kill me.”

“It’s always difficult to decide by whom you would like to be killed. Personally, I’d chose me. Sometimes I can be creative in my killings.”

“Curse you. I can’t say anything without his permission, I cannot.”

“Then get his permission,” Seth said. “Tell your master that your life span will be much extended if he will honor me with his acquaintance.”

“Even that suggestion could be my death.”

“Do it, and I’ll let you use some old storehouses on my estate in Annu-Rest.”

Anqet gawked at Seth, as did Merab. To bring the stolen funerary objects to his own seat. Anqet could hardly believe that even Seth would dare such a thing.

In her shock, she forgot her precarious position and leaned a little too hard on the corner of the ledge. The corner broke. Anqet’s hand shot out from under her, and she landed hard on her chest. The broken mud brick dropped in fragments on Merab’s head. Seth leapt away from the wall and looked up at her Merab followed the direction of Seth’s gaze. He met Anqet’s eyes and gave a low yelp.

“It’s that singer. Get her!”

They stared at each other, and Anqet remained frozen. When Merab bounded toward the stairs, Anqet leapt to her feet, turned away from the stairs, and took a running jump across the abyss that separated the storehouse and the guard wall. She landed on the other side with one foot barely on the edge. Teetering for a few seconds, she heard two voices raised in argument and footsteps on the stair Anqet saw the top of Merab’s head bob up over the ledge.

Light quick steps took her along the wall. She had to find a way down. It was too far to jump. As she ran, her eyes skimmed the dark outer perimeter It was a sheer drop to the ground. The two men were leaping across from the storehouse. Desperate, Anqet sat down and lowered her body over the edge, took a deep breath, and dropped. She landed on her side, breathless, her arm throbbing, and stumbled into the darkest shadows she could find.

Two thuds and feet pounding the ground brought Anqet to her feet and down a dark alley as fast as she could go. If she wanted to live, she must evade her pursuers. After what she’d witnessed tonight, Anqet had no doubt that Count Seth would calmly plunge his jeweled dagger into her heart to protect himself.