The King's Man (19 page)

“Great Seer Amunhotep, these are my children Hori and Suti. They have been anxious to meet you.” Both shaven heads were lowered again. They had both been painted with the same light grey tinge of colour on their eyelids, above heavy kohl.

“You are most welcome,” Huy said, making no attempt to hide his amusement. “Now, which of you is Hori and which Suti?”

“We are asked the same question almost every day, Seer Amunhotep,” one of them replied promptly. “I am Hori. He’s Suti. I am the more intelligent, of course. I draft the most original designs.” They looked at one another and laughed.

“So original that no one wants to see them actually built,” Suti retorted gaily. Huy noted that the modulation of his voice was very slightly higher than that of his brother. Suti raised his braceleted right arm and pointed at himself. “I have a small mole halfway down the side of my chest. Sometimes even our mother can’t tell us apart until I show it to her.”

“You mentioned two daughters on your estate outside Weset,” Huy said to Kha as Amunmose ushered them farther into the room. “Are they also twins?”

Kha shook his head. “Thank all the gods, no! These two provide problems enough!”

Paroi was waiting with wine jugs in both hands as Huy and his guests took their places and lifted the garlands before them on the low tables.

“This is not, strictly speaking, a feast,” Huy told them. “The noble Yey has not yet been buried. There are no perfumed cones and no entertainment. However, we may enjoy the fresh flowers.”

Both Hori and Suti were holding the garlands to their faces. “One of the advantages to living close to the perfume fields …” one began.

“… is the variety of lovely blooms in the Delta,” the other finished, quite naturally and without even glancing at his brother. “White lilies, creamy henna, pink tamarisk, even the yellow bak flowers that smell so sweet.” He set the wreath around his neck and looked across at Amunmose, who was setting out cups and finger bowls. “I don’t suppose …”

“… you have any bak pods hidden away?” Both sets of dark eyebrows were raised in anticipation.

“I’m sorry, honoured guests, but the season is still too early for them. My master enjoys them also.” The conversation became general as the wine filled the goblets and the food was served. Huy, having drunk a mouthful or two of date wine earlier, was surprised that he was mildly hungry for the lettuce and cucumber salad drenched in garlic and sesame oil and the ox liver with chickpeas that sent the aroma of majoram and coriander drifting through the air. He ate carefully, however, aware of the delicate state of his stomach, while Hori and Suti consumed everything offered to them politely but steadily.

“Your cook is excellent, Huy,” Kha remarked as Paroi began to clear away the debris and Amunmose stood by with a platter of honeyed figs.

Huy nodded. “He has certainly done well. Please tell him so, Amunmose.”

The steward rolled his eyes. “He’ll only look conceited and then begin to grumble about the restrictions of trying to work in a common kitchen, but I’ll give him the compliment anyway. I keep searching for someone cheerful to replace him.” He set down the figs and bustled away.

“Your chief steward has an unusual temperament,” Kha commented as the twins descended on the figs. “He is not at all in awe of you.”

“He’s an old friend. I’ve known him for many years.”
He and Anhur
, Huy thought fleetingly,
in the days when I was still engaged in a fruitless struggle to understand the Book of Thoth and my own astonishing regeneration
.

He and Kha watched the figs disappear, and two pairs of beringed hands dabble in the warm water of the finger bowls and reach for the squares of crisp white linen set ready for them. At once Paroi signalled and the tables were removed. “Let’s go out into the garden,” Huy said, getting up. “Amunmose has set a mat and cushions on the grass and lamps under the trees. Paroi will bring more wine.” Together they left the room and, accompanied by Perti and three other guards, walked the short distance to the welcoming lamplight.

“So this is where Perti ended up,” one of the twins observed, flinging himself down beside his brother. Huy tried to decide which one had spoken, but failed until the other chimed in.

“We thought he’d been disgraced.” This comment belonged to Suti. “One day he was drilling his favourite ten men on the practice ground and the next he and they were gone.” He turned to Huy. “We regularly liked to watch the various army divisions go through their paces when our own work was done. The Scribe of Recruits allowed us to stand with him on the dais. We competed with Perti at archery, too.”

“And he always beat us.” Hori held out his cup to Paroi, who had emerged from the darkness. “He recognizes us but won’t acknowledge us without your permission, Seer Amunhotep.”

“Then be good-mannered enough to stop talking about him as though he can’t hear you,” Kha put in testily. He had placed his cushion between the small of his back and the trunk of a tree. “Why must you both behave as though you are still children?”

“Because their work is difficult and requires their utmost concentration,” Huy said. All evening he had been quietly watching the silent, almost unconscious interplay between them. Their words were light, frivolous, but their thoughtful glances had missed no detail regarding the people around them, including himself. “They find relief in meaningless talk. Don’t be concerned on my account or Captain Perti’s, Kha. I have already taken their measure, as I’m sure Perti has. I’m ready to discuss the tasks the King has set us all.”

There was a moment of silence. The twins stared into their wine cups. Their father folded his long legs one over the other and smoothed his kilt across his thighs.

“All three of us will be returning to Weset,” he said. “It will be good to see my wife and daughters, but the duties assigned to us are heavy. The King intends to make the most ambitious changes to Amun’s temple at Ipet-isut that Egypt has ever seen.”

“I have already given orders that limestone from the mines at Tura must be routed south once the mines are repaired.” The voice was Suti’s. “I’ll be demolishing the late King’s sandstone court within the sacred precinct. It is not worthy of either Amun or our Pharaoh, who wants something there in white alabaster from Hatnub. I dislike designing for alabaster—it’s so friable. And the obelisk that’s been lying on its side unfinished for the last thirty-five years is a disgrace to the temple. It must be finished and erected.”

“We’re going to need Master of Works and Chief Sculptor Men, and his son Bek.” Hori drained his wine in one gulp and nonchalantly held his cup out to be refilled. “I’ve sent to Iunu, and both of them should be on their way to Weset by now. His Majesty has ordered me to draft a plan for a new Barque Shrine in Ipet-isut, and he has his royal eye on the southern Apt a mile or two south of Ipet-isut. I’ve seen the ruins of a small, unfinished limestone chapel there.”

“As your superior, I anticipate your designs, both of you. I assume that Men appointed his junior Masters of Works to see to the repairing and opening of the various mines.” Kha turned to Huy. “You are completely in the King’s confidence, therefore you are aware of his wish to build a new palace on the west bank directly opposite the temple of Ipet-isut.”

“I am aware of it, and I am horrified. The Regent has stated the reasons His Majesty gave, but they seem spurious to me. The dead will not be pleased.”

“Nevertheless, he has made up his mind. All three of us, Hori, Suti, and myself, will be designing it. It’s true that the existing palace will eventually become too cramped.” He sighed. “The design itself will take many months. In the meantime His Majesty will occupy the old palace. But before we begin our work at Weset we’ve been commanded to plan and erect a shrine to Nekhbet the vulture goddess at Nekheb, at the mouth of the desert valley where the eastern gold route begins. We must depict our King’s father Osiris Thothmes sitting with his son, and elsewhere the goddess herself with her protecting wings over Pharaoh.”

Why?
Huy wondered immediately.
Does Amunhotep feel that he needs the shield of the Lady of Flame because of his uncle? Has he always held Nekhbet in especial esteem? Did his father, and so by honouring the goddess with a new shrine, he is keeping his father’s spirit peaceful? In all the time I’ve known him, he’s never preferred one god over another, and indeed when he was a little boy he confessed to me that he found matters of religion boring. Well, I suppose that as long as he is keeping the Aten in its proper place I need not fret
.

“I didn’t know that,” he said aloud.

The evening was over. Full night now permeated the garden, and lamps had begun to wink off within the palace. Kha rose to his feet and his sons scrambled up at once.

Suti yawned. “I was dozing. Thank you, Great Seer, for your hospitality. We shall be seeing much more of you as the King’s projects progress. We wish you safety on your journey.”

I suppose that every inhabitant of the palace knows that I am travelling with the Vizier
, Huy thought, returning their bows and leading them back inside, where Amunmose waited to alert their escort.
At least I don’t leave tomorrow. I need poppy, and a sound sleep
.

Yey was entombed on the last day of Payni. The weather was slowly warming towards the stultifying heat of the harvest season, but the day of the funeral was mild, with a pleasant breeze. Huy, far back in the procession snaking slowly westward through the palm groves to the desert beyond, gave himself over to the delicate scents intermittently wafted to him. He had decided to attend the first day of the three-day rite out of respect for the man who had commanded such affection from the King and his mother, but he himself had not known Yey. The customary wails of the dozens of mourners in their blue sheaths trailing behind the coffin reminded him only that Yey’s family was wealthy enough to hire a small army of them. He reflected briefly on the power Yey and his survivors wielded. However, the sunlight was dazzling on the churned sand ahead, the white linen held over his head billowed gently in the moving airs, and with a mild pang of guilt that was immediately dissipated he gave himself over to the pleasure of the morning.

He and his entourage returned to the palace after sunset. The halls were unusually quiet. Every minister and nobleman had gone to accompany Yey on his last journey. Huy took the opportunity to dictate a letter to Thothhotep and Anhur, telling them that Nekheb would soon be full of workmen and introducing Kha and his sons, who had already left for Weset. Nekheb was not far south of Weset, on the east side of the river. Its twin town Nekhen sat on the western bank. He was tempted to dictate a formal request for a meeting with Yuya, but before he lay his vision of Tiye’s future before her father, there loomed the necessity of presenting it to the King.
Better to wait
, Huy thought as he stretched out on his mat under the shade in the deserted garden and gazed sleepily up through the thick leaves of the sycamore.
Amunhotep will doubtless pout and protest. He will capitulate in the end, of course, but there’s no need to antagonize him by anticipating his surrender. I wonder if the Queen has already prepared him for the news?

ON THE FOURTH DAY
, the palace began to fill again as the inhabitants came straggling back. Their mood was light, and Huy, listening to the loud chatter and frequent bursts of laughter, knew that their cheerfulness sprang from relief. Yey was dead, left behind in the darkness, but they had survived to pick up the commonplace threads of their everyday lives. No need to fret about Ma’at’s feather weighed against their hearts in the gloom of the Judgment Hall. Not yet.

As Huy emerged from his bedchamber on the fifth day, a message came from Vizier Ptahmose requesting that Huy be ready to leave Mennofer in two days, on the seventh of Epophi. Huy passed it on to Amunmose with instructions to pack his belongings. “You’ll accompany me, of course,” he told the steward, “along with Paneb, Ba-en-Ra, Tetiankh, and Perti and half my soldiers. I suppose Seneb will come also.”

“I heard him arguing with Tetiankh. Something about your opium.” Amunmose was frowning. “Seneb was trying to insist on taking charge of the portion of the shipment Tetiankh sets aside for your use during the year. The physician doesn’t want Tetiankh to dry it and grind it up. Tetiankh’s getting old, Huy, too old for the labour of a body servant. He needs nights of uninterrupted rest and less bending and lifting. Not to mention the effort of your daily massage.”

“Why do you tell me this now?” Huy retorted more sharply than he had intended. Indeed he had always taken Tetiankh’s quiet service for granted. “Is there some reason why Tetiankh can’t approach me himself?”

“He’s too proud. He’d rather work until he drops than admit that he needs help.”

“Well, speak to him. Find him an assistant. Gods, Amunmose, it’s your job to see to the welfare of my staff! Use the authority I’ve given you!”

Amunmose looked at him keenly. “I’m glad we’re going away. You need plenty of time sitting on the deck of your barge doing absolutely nothing. Except learning Akkadian, unfortunately. The scribe Minister May has assigned to you is waiting outside in the corridor with a bag full of bits of broken pots for you to practise on as though you are back at school.” His tone was scornful. “Also, Physician Seneb wants to know whether morning or evening will be a more convenient time for him to examine you. Also, the Queen demands your presence in His Majesty’s private apartments as soon as possible. She sent Maani-nekhtef here with the message. Huy, I need a scribe of my own!”

“Then hire one and deal with Seneb and May’s servant. Both of them will travel with me. We’ll need at least one other vessel besides mine. Get Paroi to see to it.”

Amunmose nodded curtly. He was already barking orders as he walked away.

With his guards before and behind Paneb and himself, Huy made his way to Amunhotep’s now familiar double doors, waiting while Captain Perti knocked and Chief Steward Nubti appeared and bowed, greeting him politely and ushering him inside. Before he bent in reverence, Huy noted that the room was unnaturally empty. He extended his arms, bowed from the waist, and moved towards the two at the far end. Mutemwia was sitting with her feet on a low stool, her yellow sheath falling softly across her legs and brushing the floor. A coronet of thin, twisted gold wires studded with artificial lotus buds sat on her brow above a carefully painted face, the lustrous eyelids glinting with specks of gold dust mixed into the kohl, the perfect little mouth gleaming with red antimony rather than the more common orange henna. Rings weighed down her thin fingers. A tiny silver likeness of the vulture goddess Mut, consort of Amun and Mutemwia’s totem, hung from one lobe. Huy, going to his knees, thought with a throb of distress that she had never looked more regal.