The Eye of Horus (7 page)

He burst out laughing, a sound I have sorely missed these past five years. ‘Thank the gods you are not changed, Tenre. Do you still spend your nights with your scrolls instead of a woman, or is it a wife that has turned your brown eyes so solemn?”

“Hardly,” I scoffed. “Most women I see are already big with child, but perhaps with you here my luck will change—unless you are the one who has settled into middle age.” I caught a glimpse of the boy he used to be before his face turned serious again.

“Not yet and not likely, though I confess I grow weary of seeing men spill their guts and brains for no good reason. I can still hear their moans in my sleep, and wake with the noxious odor of their rotting flesh in my nose. But if you are through twisting that poor fellow’s arm, let us go find a cool mug of beer.”

I nodded, anxious to hear where he had been and what he had learned, for we had made a pact the night before he sailed. He would learn all he could from the wounds men suffer in battle while I did the same from the ills of the men, women, and children who tend Amen’s fields. On his return, we would combine our newfound wisdom to rewrite the scrolls of the ancients.

“I swear I do not remember it being so infernally hot here,” he commented, as we settled in the garden of the Clay Jar, a tavern popular with soldiers and seamen. “But tell me how you earn enough to eat by treating women and children?”

“Everyone prospers since the young Pharaoh returned to the city of Amen.” I paused to wet my throat. “You remember Nofret, my widowed aunt? Well, it is our habit to take the evening meal in my garden, where she regales Khary, the man I have hired to cultivate my herb garden, and me with gossip. So I’ll wager I knew before you that your General would take the Princess for his wife. What I want to know is how you came to be with him.”

“I was sent to our garrison at Zarw, where my General prepared a campaign into Canaan. One day when he was practicing with his bow, the shaft of an arrow splintered as he released it, driving a thin sliver of wood into the soft underside of his arm. Horemheb is not one to take notice of such a small thing, so by the time I saw it the wound had gone putrid and looked as bad as it smelled. I poulticed it with moldy bread, mumbled a magic spell, and had him eat radishes sufficient to send ten men to the latrine. He believes I saved his life as well as his arm, and so must have me always at his side.”

I smiled, remembering how it has always been with us, but in the next instant his face changed from day to night. “The ambassadors of our onetime allies may have returned to court, Tenre, but they come without treaties or tribute because Tutankhamen has nothing to bargain with.” Word of the General’s failure to regain the territory lost by the Heretic Akhenaten had already filtered back to Waset, but Horemheb returned triumphant anyway because he brought long-owed tribute from the Canaanites and their Shasu brethren. “My General comes to acquire more than a royal princess,” Mena continued. “He needs more troops, and Ay will see that he gets them.” He sat back. “Once Horemheb chases the Hittites back to Hattusas, the throne will be his.”

I knew Mena too well to believe he spoke in jest. “Akhenaten taught the priests of Amen a lesson they mean never to forget,” I reminded him. “It will take a clever hand to tame a lion and crocodile at the same time.”

“Horemheb will pull their teeth. Power lies with the strong now, Tenre, not in the blood. Do not forget that the General rose through the ranks under the wily old Master of the Horse, who now sits on Tutankhamen’s right hand.”

“Ay sat beside Akhenaten as well,” I reminded him, “and look where
he
is!” That we spoke of the Beautiful One’s first husband was proof to me that the gods play games with our thoughts. “But since you mingle among the high-and-mighty, tell me what has happened to the Heretic’s Queen.”

“Mutnodjme’s royal sister? I have heard only that she lives somewhere in the land of the lotus, likely not far from here.”

“Then perhaps I can tell
you
something, though it must be as physician to physician.” With those words I bound his tongue and could trust him not to share the confidence. “She is Consort to a God’s Father named Ramose, keeper of Amen’s accounts, and has borne him a daughter.”

Shock and then chagrin crossed Mena’s bronze face, so he understood full well what an alliance between a powerful priest of Amen and a daughter of the Magnificent Amenho-tep
could portend. “Like a cat, that one always lands on her feet.”

“Her claim to the throne is without equal,” I reminded him, “not only as the daughter of Osiris Amenhotep but because she once sat at Akhenaten’s side. Now she plays a new game of Jackals and Hounds, this time with the High Priest of Amen.”

“Did you hear that bit of gossip from your widowed aunt as well?”

“I attended the babe’s birth.”

“You?” Mena almost fell off his stool. “What do you take me for, a witless ox? No offense, Tenre, but the priest you describe would never allow one such as you anywhere near his woman, not when he could have a physician from the House of Life.”

“So I thought, too. But you know how it is. Birthing is for midwives. The exalted ones from the Per Ankh are not called until it is too late and so have little experience of a woman who labors. And no wish to acquire it.”

“How long ago was this?”

“On the very day her other daughter became Tutankhamen’s Queen.” I decided not to mention that I had gone to Ramose’s house again only the night before.

“Nearly four years.” He gave me a look to see if I pulled his leg. “For an ordinary physician, my friend, you seem to have acquired anything but an ordinary reputation.” Then, without warning, he sailed in a different direction. “I have learned that dried crystals of honey will save many a hacked limb, by taking up the fluid from a deep cut.”

That he remembered our youthful pact made my heart sing with joy. “I, too, have much to report. An ointment made from the blood of an ox mixed with fat from a black snake will stop a man’s hair from turning white. You should try it.”

Before I knew what he was about he had slapped my cheek in play. “How I have missed you,” he said.

“As I have missed you,” I admitted, warmed by his words.

He glanced up at the sky. “I must go learn where I am to lodge this night, and find a bath before I show myself at Pharaoh’s palace.”

It was my turn to gape. “You go to Tutankhamen’s House of Jubilation?”

“He is to accept the tribute Horemheb brings and reward him for his service. Also for taking his sister off his hands.” Mena sent me the ingenuous grin that once fooled even my father into believing him an innocent.

“If royal blood counts for so little,” I asked, “why does Horemheb wed a princess? Surely it is common knowledge that she has lain with every man in the Two Lands, except for you and me. Or perhaps I should speak only for myself.”

“I see your skill at finding the holes in an argument is still sharp as a razor,” he muttered as we got up to leave. “Once my General impregnates her it will no longer matter. Soon he must sail to Upper Nubia to inspect the garrisons that secure the territory above the Second Cataract, but until then they cruise on the royal barge.”

“You will go with him to Kush?”

“Not this time, and perhaps never again.” His face was hidden from me as we passed from the garden. “I find myself lying awake at night, wondering—should Anubis come for me tomorrow—what I leave behind to mark my existence, with no wife to mourn my absence nor any children to say my name.” He handed the tavern keeper a chit to cover our beer, and we went out into the hot, dusty street.

“It is the wisdom Imhotep left to those who have come after him that endures,” I reminded him. “But while you ponder which good woman to choose for your wife, it might clear your vision to spend an hour or two in the marshes … unless your throwing arm grows weak with age.”

“At our usual place,” he returned, taking the bait, “just as Re-Horakhte shows his face above the horizon?”

I nodded, but could not resist pricking him again. “Do not forget to eat some cabbage with your meat tonight, lest a throbbing head spoil your aim.”

“Not even a dancing girl will lie with me if I stink of cabbage. Better to chew almonds and kill two birds with one throw, remember?”

With that he started toward the river while I stood feasting my eyes on his familiar stride, letting the memory of other times and other taverns engulf my heart. Especially the night we set out to discover whether eating almonds would prevent the sore head that comes from too much wine and at the same time produce an erection to rival that of the god Min himself. Then I turned and made my way to the path to Amen’s temple.

Pagosh stepped forward to greet me as I passed through Ramose’s gate. “So,
sunu
, what kept you?”

My heart jumped into my throat. “Her fever returned?”

“No, but if you believed it might, why leave her to last?”

I willed my heart back down into my chest. “And because of that you withdraw the hand you extended to me in the night?”

“You speak in riddles,” he muttered, turning to lead me toward the priest’s house.

“I think you understand me only too well
, friend.”

“Then come … Tenre.” It did not come easy for him. “My lord wishes to speak with you first, and the little one grows impatient. She has been waiting all day with her Jackals and Hounds, ready to play.”

“Your little goddess thinks I come to play games?”

“Aset is not one to lie.”

“No, she does not lie,” I agreed, vowing to guard my tongue more carefully. “But Jackals and Hounds is no game for a child.”

He gave me an indulgent look. “She has a kind heart and probably will let you win the first game.”

I followed him to the big room where the priest had awaited me before. “I am forever in your debt, Senakhtenre,” he said in greeting. Nor did he keep me standing this time, but invited me to join him on the padded sitting shelf.
“Pagosh believes you are wise beyond your years, and I see the proof of that in my daughter’s eyes.” His generous mouth hinted at the rare smile to come, and I caught a glimpse of Aset in her father’s face. “Since the will of Amen has brought us together not once, but twice, it appears that our destinies have been joined. I would be a fool to turn away from you again, so I ask you now to become physician to my household.” I stared at him, wondering if he jested at my expense. “Your first duty would be to care for my daughter, though I would expect you to attend the other women, as well. Merit, for one.”

It is common enough for a wealthy man to employ an ordinary physician to tend the sickness and injuries suffered by his servants, fellahin, and animals, but that was not what he was asking. “I am not—” I stopped and began again. “If you believe I can perform miracles, my lord, you have been misled.”

He waved that away with an impatient hand. “I admit that I made it my business to learn why you are not like the others, and questioned every man I sent to you for treatment. So I leave the miracles to Amen. It is the wisdom you have gained from your endless questions and experiments that I desire from you. In exchange, I offer you a house of your own and food from my kitchen. Beer from my brewery and wine from my vineyard.” Ramose paused, but my thoughts ran in every direction at once. “All the eggs you need from the fowl yard,” he added, watching me with those all-seeing blue eyes. “Ten rations of beef and double that of grain each month.”

He offered me riches beyond any I ever expected in this life, but the man sat on Amen’s Sacred Council, and I have no love for priests.
He also sent the priest-physicians packing when they allowed his royal wife to walk near the western horizon,
a voice reminded me. My
ka,
I suppose.

“I see you hold back for another reason. Tell me, then, for I must be well fortified indeed if I am to disappoint both Pagosh and my daughter.”

“It is not that I do not wish to care for your daughter, my lord, but that so many others depend on me.”

“What if I find another
sunu
to serve them, could you not teach him your ways?”

“Perhaps, but no one else can honor the promise I made my assistant, whose wife soon will bring forth their first child.” Should he chide me for playing the role of midwife after calling me to attend his own lady, I would have the measure of the man and find it easy to refuse his offer.

“You speak of your man Khary?” I nodded, wondering what else he knew of my affairs. “Then have him send for you when her time is at hand.”

It was not until Khary came to work for me that I discovered he could read and write, and that behind his tawny cat’s eyes and gentle hands lies a wit sharp enough to hone my own. In the end I hired a second man to till my soil and have been teaching Khary to prepare my pills and potions. I did not wish to give up the idea I have been considering for some time, of dispensing our medicines and herbs to all those in need.

“I would need to maintain my house in town,” I told him, testing how deep his desire for my services might run, “and go there to replenish the medicines my assistant prepares.”

His eyes narrowed at that, but in the end he nodded. “Anything else?”

“I must be allowed to treat
all
your workers and their families, since whatever pestilence attacks them could be visited on those you wish most to protect.” I dared much should Ramose take as heresy what I said about the spread of pestilence among rich and poor alike. Perhaps some sixth sense told him I would not come otherwise.

“Then I rely on you to do as you see fit. Only be sure you do not neglect my daughter.” He gave me a thoughtful glance. “My animals, too?”

“If I am to gain the confidence of your daughter.”

He almost smiled. “We are agreed, then?”

“I would like to consider my decision over the night, if you will permit it.”

“Then think about this, as well. I do not fault Merit for loving her overmuch, but she cannot protect Aset from the cruelties she will encounter in the temple school, from both the priests and her schoolmates. At times, perhaps, even from me. I do not wish to see her spirit crushed, nor do I want her spoiled by indulgence, and the path between is a narrow one. The same path you often walk in hurting a child in order to heal.”