The Horus Road (50 page)

They sat there for some time in a mood of emotional exhaustion, she taking strength and comfort from the warmth of his flesh and he searching for the limits of this strange new passion and finding none. His eyes never left the baby’s face. He noted her resemblance to Aahmesnefertari in the shape of her jaw and the way her mouth quirked as Seqenenra’s had done. With a pang he saw that her ears followed the curves and hollows of his own. But most of all he was dismally aware of her pallor, the tinge of grey to her skin, the track the tears of bewilderment had made across the minute indentations of her temples. He wanted to place his lips against hers and force life into her with a gush of his own hot breath, crush her against him so that the beat of life pulsing so steadily beneath his own ribs might flood her with vitality. I am the King, he thought with anguish. I am the Son of the Sun, Amun’s Incarnation in Egypt. Every green spear of wheat in the fields, every ox standing drinking in the shallows of the Nile, every peasant, soldier and noble, exists to obey me. Yet I am powerless to command my baby to be healed.

Aahmes-nefertari stirred at last. “Put her back in the basket, Ahmose,” she said dully. “She is asleep,” and Ahmose saw with a jolt that the baby’s sunken eyelids had closed. Carefully he rose and laid her tenderly down. She made a little sucking sound but otherwise did not stir and her flaccid limbs fell loosely onto the mattress. Ahmose covered her with the sheet and turned to his wife.

“I have ordered Uni to bring food,” he began, hushing her protest by taking both her hands. “You will eat and drink and then you will go to the bath house and Senehat will bathe you. I will stay here until you return.” He saw consternation on her face and he shook her fingers gently. “I must speak to the Royal Physician and Mother, but I will come back afterwards,” he assured her. “I intend to have my couch moved in here. We will keep this terrible vigil together, Aahmes-nefertari, and from now on the morning audience will be my responsibility.” She began to cry again, but this time with a quiet gratitude.

“I have not asked you about Sharuhen,” she started to say. He cut her short.

“Sharuhen is a mirage today,” he said. “I only care about you and Sat-Kamose.”

There was a knock on the door and Uni entered with Senehat and Hekayib behind him. A fragrant steam rose from the trays they carried. This time it was Ahmose who led Aahmes-nefertari through into her reception room and sat her down beside the table, pouring wine for her as the servants set out the food. “Look, dearest, there is a fresh salad, surely the first of the season,” he said. “Lentil soup smelling of coriander, roasted beef with peppercorns, and hot barley bread sprinkled with sesame seeds. We must not waste a single mouthful!” He pushed the platters towards her, dismissing Uni as he did so. The door closed and he drew up another chair beside her. “Eat, Your Majesty, I command you,” he said sternly, “or I will have you thrown into Kamose’s jail.” She rewarded his effort with a wan smile and to his relief, picked up a thin, green onion shoot, twirling it around in her fingers before biting off a piece.

“Thank you, Ahmose,” she murmured. “I think perhaps I am a little hungry today. Will you fetch Sat-Kamose if she wakes?” He nodded. Placing his elbow on the table, he rested his chin in his palm and watched her with satisfaction, but long before she had finished the meal there was a thin cry from the nursery. Motioning her to stay where she was, he got up and went to attend to his daughter. He felt as though he were walking to his execution.

When Aahmes-nefertari returned from the bath house, Ahmose left her and made his way to his father’s office. Both Akhtoy and Ipi had gathered with Uni outside Aahmesnefertari’s door and Ahmose sent his steward for the Royal Physician and Ipi to Aahotep with a warning that he would come to her apartments presently. Once inside the room that he still thought of as belonging to Seqenenra he felt more calm. Something of his father’s serenity lingered here and Ahmose remembered him with a spurt of longing. You never seemed disturbed or agitated, Osiris one, he spoke to him in his mind. You were always meditative in your speech and dignified in your manner, even after Mersu’s savage attack left you crippled and paralyzed. Whatever inner turmoil you endured did not reveal itself in your demeanour. Amun give me the same grace and power over myself, and the courage to bear both my wife’s despair and my own grief as this tragedy is played out to its inevitable end.

By the time the Royal Physician was admitted and had bowed, Ahmose had recovered his equilibrium. The man looked almost as tired as Aahmes-nefertari. He waited impassively.

“There is no hope for my little daughter, is there, physician?” Ahmose demanded without preamble. The physician wetted his lips.

“None, Majesty,” he said frankly. “I am sorry. The Princess keeps down neither her mother’s milk nor the wet nurse’s nor the goat’s milk I was forced to recommend. I am ashamed to say that I do not know why.” Ahmose thought for a moment.

“The Queen tells me that you wished to give the baby poppy but that she refused you.” The physician raised his shoulders under his yellow tunic, a gesture of futility.

“The Princess is dying a slow and painful death by starvation,” he said. “Poppy would not prolong her life but it would ease her pain and give her the gift of unconsciousness.” His words were hesitant and Ahmose pounced on them.

“Why do you think the Queen refused such help for a child whose affliction is sapping her own life?” The man looked at the floor.

“I could not say, Majesty.” Ahmose stepped closer to him.

“Yes, you could!” he snapped. “You are my Royal Physician. You are wise, and skilled in your profession. Answer me!” The physician raised his head unwillingly.

“I have no definite conclusion,” he admitted, “but it seems to me as if Her Majesty is punishing herself for something I do not understand by denying poppy to the Princess. She wishes to drink the dregs of the baby’s suffering to the full as an expiation. Perhaps Your Majesty has more knowledge of such a matter than I.” Ahmose stared at him, frowning. An expiation, he reflected. Yes, of course. My poor Aahmes-nefertari. You blame yourself for your dead and dying children, don’t you? You are terrified that I will reject you because of what you see as your failure and you flog yourself mercilessly with guilt.

“Perhaps I do,” he said reflectively. “Prepare the poppy and come to the Queen’s apartments later this afternoon. Wait there for me. You are dismissed.” I feel as though I have been home for a week at least, he mused as he set out for his mother’s rooms, but it has only been a few hours. Yet I do not believe that I will be eager to leave again as I was the last time, nor do I fear the boredom that dogged me then. Sat-Kamose has captured my heart, and because of her my domain shines with the light of fulfilment. I will not have her long. I am resigned to her loss even as I discover the joy of loving her. I embrace the bitter with the sweet, for I suspect that she has begun to show me dimensions of myself to which I was utterly blind. How might Hent-ta-Hent have changed me if I had been with her at her dying?

It occurred to him hazily that his recent, hurtful encounters with Tani might have had something to do with his almost instant recognition of his daughter as something precious, that Tani’s unwavering, implausible defection had awakened him to the unpredictability of life in a way that his military escapades never could. He was briefly pondering the matter when his mother’s steward saw him coming, saluted him, and he was admitted into her presence.

He was taken aback to see Tetisheri there also, sitting on the chair by Aahotep’s couch, her feet resting on a stool and her gnarled hands in her lap. He thought that he had hidden his surprise that was almost alarm very well but as he approached her, bending over to kiss her ring-encrusted fingers, she gave a grunt. “You did not expect to see me, did you, Majesty?” she said. “But it has been a very long time since we met and when I heard that you had arranged to see Aahotep I hurried to be here.” Her tone held mild reproof. You should have at least sent me your greetings if you did not intend to visit me, it implied, and Ahmose did his best to quell the familiar irritation mixed with shame that her unspoken criticisms always conjured.

“You are looking well, Grandmother,” he murmured, forcing himself to meet the fierce, knowing eyes that still glittered with intelligence although she was nearly seventy years old.

“I have an aching back and I do not sleep well,” she retorted. “Other than that I am in good health. I am sorry that circumstances have forced you home, Ahmose. There really is nothing you can do for Sat-Kamose, and as for Aahmes-nefertari …” She shrugged eloquently, the wrinkled hollows above her collar-bones suddenly deepening with the gesture. “Your wife has fallen apart most regrettably. I love her but she always did lack stamina. She was easily frightened as a girl, and what that baby needs is the care of a strong, calm female. The wet nurse was admirable in that respect, but Aahmes-nefertari sent her away.” Ahmose straightened and gazed at her, fighting to keep his temper. Her tongue had sharpened with age, but he made himself remember that she did indeed love Aahmesnefertari even though her vision of the Queen was made up almost entirely of the memories to which she clung.

“I was not forced to come home,” he said steadily. “I came to see my daughter before she died and to support my wife. No better woman has been under so much strain without breaking, Tetisheri, excluding you, of course. Nothing ever breaks you.” She had not missed the sarcasm of his words but she did not rise to it. Instead she said unexpectedly, “Kamose’s murder broke me. Your father’s death in battle almost broke me. My speech is sometimes cruel, Ahmose. Forgive me. It is just so frustrating …” She trailed off into silence and he turned to his mother with relief. Here at least was an echo of Seqenenra, sane and quietly competent in her actions and intuitive in her decisions and pronouncements. Taking her hand and pressing his cheek to hers, he smiled at her.

“Thank you for the letter,” he said simply. She returned his smile.

“I knew you would come,” she replied. “It has been dreadful here, Ahmose. She would not relinquish the reins of government to me because you had entrusted the running of the country to her. It was a matter of pride. But if you had tarried any longer, I think she would indeed have broken utterly. I did not have the authority to give her any orders.” She indicated the pomegranate wine and shat cakes set out on the table. “Now sit and tell us of Tani,” she invited. “Your report conveyed little but shouted much.”

Ahmose’s heart sank. He had known this moment would arrive but still he shrank from it. Tipping the gleaming red liquid into a cup, he took a swallow of its fragrance before settling unwillingly into a chair. In spite of his desperate searching he could find no way to soften the blow that had already fallen on Aahotep, no little lies to bind up a wound already bleeding. So he recited the events of Tani’s refusal to tell him where Apepa had gone, her refusal to take ship back to Weset, her adamant desire to enter Sharuhen and be with her husband, in plain unvarnished language. He did not, however, repeat his sister’s all-too-realistic assessment of the reception she might have expected from the women of her family. Aahotep listened motionless, watching his face, raising her cup occasionally to drink but saying nothing. When he had finished, it was Teti-sheri who expressed her disgust.

“The person you describe is unrecognizable as the girl who left here with Apepa so bravely,” she snorted. “She allowed the Setiu to corrupt her will. Little coward! Thank the gods her father is not alive to see her betrayal! He would have whipped her and sent her to Weset tied to her cabin wall! We will not refer to her again. Now tell us of Sharuhen and the siege. That news is much more interesting.” She had blustered angrily in her old woman’s uneven croak, but Ahmose saw her quickly tuck her hands into the folds of her sheath to hide their trembling and he was filled with pity for her. Hastily he began to talk of Apepa’s escape, the burning of the palace, Abana’s capture of the Setiu and how he had forced them to reveal Apepa’s destination, all the drama and excitement on which she throve, and he was rewarded with a series of snorts, laughs and exclamations as she became more and more involved in the tale. Finally she slapped the arm of her chair. “Ha!” she crowed. “Now we have him, that spawn of Sutekh! It is only a matter of time before Sharuhen falls to you and you will be able to cut off his head! Well done, Majesty!” He did not spoil her delight by reminding her of Sharuhen’s impregnability. Draining his cup, he rose and bowed to them both.

“Apart from the morning audiences, I shall be spending all my time in Aahmes-nefertari’s quarters,” he said. “I ask you both to see to Pa-she and Ahmose-onkh. Does he still run off to play in the bricklayers’ mud pits?”

“The bricklayers have gone, Ahmose,” Tetisheri said. “The old palace needs nothing but whitewash and decoration. Even the gardens have been laid out around it, although they are still new and unlovely. Will you have it blessed soon?” I have dreamed of that moment since Kamose and I sailed north to reclaim Egypt, Ahmose thought sadly. Now it is here and all I can think about is Sat-Kamose. I feel no exultation, no sense of triumph. Fate has stolen it away.

“I do not know,” he answered heavily. “Perhaps.” He turned to the door but his mother’s voice forestalled him.

“Is she well?” Aahotep asked mildly. Ahmose paused.

“Yes, she is well, and more beautiful than ever,” he replied without looking at her. He rapped on the wood. Kares opened at once, and sick with desolation Ahmose stepped out into the passage.

The Royal Physician and Uni were waiting for him outside Aahmes-nefertari’s door and they went in together. It seemed to Ahmose that she must have been pacing just within her reception room, anxious for his return, the baby in her arms, for she almost ran to him as Uni closed the door behind him, her expression clearing. But when she saw the vial and spoon the physician was carrying, she halted abruptly. “No,” she said. Ahmose placed a hand firmly on her shoulder.