The Hippopotamus Marsh (7 page)

“Yes, I know! All Egypt knows! Treat them with patience and respect and they will cease! I don’t know what demon has found a way into you, Prince, but run to the magicians and be exorcised!”

“No other way?” The words were so softly spoken that Seqenenra could not be sure Teti had heard them. Teti let him go. For a long moment he regarded Seqenenra, and slowly his face fell into lines of sadness and regret.

“No.” he replied. Turning on his heel he walked into the welcoming cacophony of the hall. Dazed, heart pounding, Seqenenra followed. That is the end of it, he thought, as
Aahotep saw him and came hurrying through the crowd. He bent as a serving girl reached to tie a cone of perfumed wax on his head and another with a word of submission set a wreath of blue lotuses around his neck. Aahotep kissed him.

“You look ill,” she said. “Come and sit down. Too much rich wine, Prince?” He managed to smile into her painted face and allowed himself to be led to the low table strewn with flowers that awaited him. The other guests were settling themselves before their own tables throughout the hall and the musicians, harps and drums under their arms, were threading their way towards the dais. The end of it, end of it! Seqenenra thought fervently. Tomorrow I will apologize to Teti. I do not even have the excuse of being drunk. I will invite him and his family to Weset. I will make amends. But as he lowered himself beside Aahotep and turned to politely greet the woman on his other side, rebellion rose in him like a sick red tide. I am a King, he thought fiercely. I am Horus. Horus does not make amends.

He drank too much that night, singing with the singers, dancing with the naked women who twirled and dipped between the tables. He was not alone. By the time dawn inched coldly into the room the floor was littered with guests too drunk to get onto their litters and go home. Aahotep, Uni and Isis half-dragged, half-carried Seqenenra to his couch in the guest quarters where he muttered, groaned, and fell into a sodden sleep.

He woke towards noon with a raging thirst and a headache that threatened to split him in two. Rolling off the couch he sat waiting for the room to swim into focus. Outside, he heard voices in the garden, and farther away,
splashes and shrieks. Dogs were barking. A knock came on the door and Uni entered carrying a tray. Seqenenra smiled at him weakly. “I suppose most of the servants are ministering to guests as sorry for themselves this morning as I am,” he said. “Is there water, Uni?” The man set the tray on the table beside the couch.

“Yes. I drew it myself from the urn in the passage. It is fresh. There is also bread and some figs, though they are very early ones and I fear they are too green. If you don’t want them, I can bring leek shoots.” Seqenenra lifted the cup and drained it.

“The figs will do. Go to the bath house and make sure there is hot water for me in a moment. Where are the others?”

“The Princesses Aahotep and Aahmes-nefertari are in the garden with the other women, watching the weaving. Tani and Ramose are swimming. Ahmose has gone fishing. Teti and his steward have taken litters into Khemennu and I believe Si-Amun is with them.”

“Thank you. You can go.” Uni bowed himself out.

Seqenenra picked through the figs without appetite. With his thirst quenched, the headache was receding. Carefully he reviewed the curious and frightening exchange he and Teti had had, all his own fault of course, and he discovered that the wine he had swilled so copiously had somehow acted as a purge. He felt cleansed in his mind. Despair and anxiety had gone. He could go home in peace.

Padding into the passage, he drew more water from the waist-high stone jar, drank, then wrapping a sheet around himself, he made his way to the bath house. Standing on the slab while the bath servant deluged and scrubbed him,
he told himself that life was good. Damp and cooled, he made his way back to his room, opened the house-shrine to Thoth, and thanked the god for giving him the new wisdom to accept gladly that which could not be changed. Uni did not reappear. Annoyed, Seqenenra dressed himself in a plain kilt, a silver chain and his sandals, then he ventured out into the sparkling early afternoon.

Slipping by the garden where his wife and his daughter, cross-legged on mats under a canopy, were talking animatedly with Teti’s wife who was sitting on a stool before a loom, he strolled past the trellises of grapevines, across the paved court, and came to the watersteps. Several dogs lay panting and indolent in the shade of the acacias that clustered close to the water and Teti’s pet baboon shuffled up to him, inspected him curiously, and put out a furry hand. Amused, Seqenenra took it, stroked it, and the beast, seemingly satisfied, bared its teeth in a parody of a smile and shambled into the shrubs.

Seqenenra lowered himself onto the steps. Tani and Ramose were out in deep water, beating each other with rushes amid shouts of laughter. Seqenenra watched contentedly. Presently Tani saw him, waved, and she and Ramose swam towards the steps and clambered dripping and puffing out of the river. “Greetings, Prince,” Ramose said, bowing. “I thank you, if I have not done so before, for the company of your daughter.”

“Oh, I believe you have done so before,” Seqenenra assured him, grinning. Ramose looked discomfited, then grinned in return.

“I must put in some practice at the butts now,” he said. “Please excuse me. Tani, I will ask Father about the chariot
ride later today.” He strode away, his bare feet supple and sure on the sandy paving, the sun glittering on the beads of water spraying from his body. Tani wrung out her hair and rubbed the water from her face.

“Such a polite young man,” Seqenenra observed. “You like it here, don’t you, Tani?” She pulled the sopping linen sheath away from her brown skin. Seqenenra noted how transparent it was when wet, how it moulded to the budding curves and long lines of her. She was lithely beautiful, this precious daughter of his, and in a very few years she would have the added assurance of maturity and an awareness of her own magnetism. All at once he was very proud of her, proud and hungrily possessive.

Yes,” she answered. “I do. There is always something going on. Oh, Father,” she hastened to correct herself, “it is not that I’m bored at home. Home is my preferred place. I do not mean to be disrespectful. But being here is fun.”

“I seem to recall that on your last visit you sulked and couldn’t wait to weigh anchor and be off back to Weset.”

“Yes, well that was four years ago. Ramose threw spiders at me then, and teased me, and so I refused to come with you the next few times. But now it is different. He is a man now.”

“He doesn’t tease you any more?”

“Well, yes, he does, but not spitefully. And he looks after me too.” For the second time he saw her blush, a russet stain under her dark cheeks. She began to scrub at her scalp with vigour. “I want him to come and stay with us. Will you invite him, Father?” You have flashes of true adulthood, my Tani, he thought before he answered. I, too, would like to see Ramose in a setting other than this opulent estate.

“Yes, I will,” he agreed. “His father is talking of a betrothal between the two of you.” She did not seem surprised. Folding her hands between her knees she gazed out over the sun-dimpled Nile.

“No one has said anything to me,” she responded, “but it may be. I think he is very fine and I think he likes me too.” Suddenly she turned an astute stare on her father. “But what about Kamose?” Inwardly Seqenenra relinquished that foolish dream and found he was not sorry to see it dissolve into nothingness.

“If you and Kamose had shown the slightest sexual interest in each other, I would be pushing for a marriage between you,” he confessed. “But Tani, I will never force you into something abhorrent to you. If you and Ramose continue to learn to care for one another, you will make many people happy.” She kissed him swiftly on the cheek.

“Thank you, Father. You are really quite wonderful. Kamose is not going to get married for a very long time, you know. He is too serious about everything. I think I will go and get oiled.”

He did not watch her go. He sat with chin in hand, his eyes on the far bank now shimmering in the heat haze. She is only partly right, he thought. Kamose is indeed a serious man, but his character is full of deep feeling and intensity. If he ever meets a woman who stirs him, he will commit himself to her for the rest of his life.

Si-Amun delighted in his time in Khemennu. He was at home with the elegant, smoothly polite representatives of the King who came and went in Teti’s busy reception hall. He blossomed with curiosity when talking to the merchants and traders from Rethennu, Keftiu and Zahi, and his
confident questions betrayed an avid excitement. He also enjoyed the twittering attentions of Teti’s many female servants. He was tall, sinewy, handsome and a prince. He received all deference as his right.

He and Teti had always been fond of each other. Teti was as affable and open as Seqenenra was lordly and aloof, and though Si-Amun loved his father and was fully conscious of the tincture of royalty in his blood, there were times when he would have preferred to be a son of Teti. Such thoughts made him feel ashamed but did not detract from his pleasure. He had gone with Teti and Seqenenra to pay the obligatory call on the governor of Khemennu and its nomes. Seqenenra had been effusively good-mannered, sampling every sweetmeat at the welcome meal, enquiring after the health of the governor’s family and raising his goblet with words of praise to the King on his lips, but Si-Amun knew that under the exquisite conventions his father was hating himself for his dishonesty.

On this day he and Teti had returned to the governor’s estate and spent a delightful morning inspecting the man’s hunting dogs, sampling a rare vintage of palm wine, and listening to the latest gossip that came out of Het-Uart. He had taken his leave with regret. He and Teti had then got onto their litters and had been carried to a rocky outcrop in the desert where there were some ancient tombs, now open and pillaged. Si-Amun had his countrymen’s avid interest in the monuments of the past. He exclaimed over the wall paintings and felt the sadness of the desecrated place. After a prayer for the kas of those who had once lain there and a petition to Anubis to remember them, he and Teti had returned to the cultivated fringe of greenness where Teti’s
servants laid down mats, put up canopies, and spread bread, beer and fruit for their lunch.

“You are a very generous man, Teti,” Si-Amun complimented him as they sat cross-legged under the shade of a fig tree and gratefully drank their beer. “You do not come to Weset often enough for us to repay you for your hospitality.” Teti smiled across at him.

“The gods and the King have been good to me,” he replied, “and besides, I love to have company, Si-Amun. My other relatives are not congenial people.”

“Father was congenial enough last night!” Si-Amun laughed. “He does not often get drunk and have such a good time. I think it relaxes him to be here. He takes his responsibilities at home too seriously.” As soon as the words had left his mouth, he wondered if he had been disloyal. He glanced anxiously at Teti, but Teti had drained his cup and was smiling warmly across at him, eyes narrowed.

“As a Prince of this realm your father has a certain dignity to maintain,” he answered. “Yet I do not think he drank out of relaxation and pleasure, Si-Amun. He has been troubled and withdrawn since he arrived. It is the scrolls from the One, isn’t it? I wish he would confide in me as an old friend, and let me help him.” Si-Amun hesitated, wishing he had not blurted out his observation so freely, but Teti continued to smile. He leaned forward and placed a soft, hot hand on Si-Amun’s. “You need not speak of it, if you do not wish to,” Teti said. “But know, Si-Amun, that I love you and your father and the rest of your family. There is blood shared between us, however distant the connection. Relatives should aid each other.” Si-Amun now felt disloyal to Teti. To dismiss the moment would seem rude,
and it was true that he had a sudden urge to confide in this man. His father would listen to his doubts, indeed he knew them already, but his sympathetic ear did not bring agreement. Teti would be different. Teti would understand.

“Yes, they should,” Si-Amun returned. Teti relinquished his hand. “It is nothing truly important, Teti,” Si-Amun went on. “But the scrolls seem so arbitrary in their demands, so senseless. Each time one arrives, Father becomes more tense and angry.” He looked up. Teti’s eyes were commiseratory and understanding. The man nodded.

“And you are afraid that one day your father will grow tired of an unrewarded loyalty to the King and will take some reckless action that will bring disgrace on you all.” Si-Amun nodded miserably.

“I think there is already rebellion in his heart. It is so unfair!” he burst out. “Our house has been loyal to Het-Uart for hentis! Why is the One pushing so?”

“Calm yourself,” Teti said soothingly. “Have you eaten well? Good. A little more beer and then we will make our way home.” Si-Amun watched as the dark liquid spilled into his cup. “You are not a child, Si-Amun,” Teti reproved him gently. “You know the King’s fear. It will be laid to rest as long as your father strives to obey.” He drank, sighed, and wiped his mouth on a piece of linen a servant discreetly passed to him. “You and I must do our best to make sure that Seqenenra rides out this storm in peace. I say again, it will pass. I am your friend, young man, and your father’s too.” He bent a solemn gaze upon Si-Amun. “I would be desolate if anything happened to either of you. Let me help.” Si-Amun looked gratefully into the plump, painted face.

“You are very kind, Teti,” he said huskily, “but I don’t know what you can do.”

“I can speak for your father in Het-Uart. The One knows that my own loyalty is without question. I can be an intermediary, tactful, pouring oil on these troubled waters. I can also come and visit your father, talk to him of sense and preservation if his anxieties become too much to bear.”

Suddenly Si-Amun knew what was coming. He cringed inside, wishing fervently that the whole subject had never arisen, and then wondering if it would have surfaced in any case. He was caught. He could not back away after having expressed his concern for his father. It would seem callous. He could not refuse Teti’s offer of assistance, for that in turn would appear to render the problem frivolous and his own words an exaggeration. But they were not my words even though they were present in my heart, he thought while Teti regarded him fondly. Teti spoke them aloud, not me.