House of Dreams (47 page)

“It would be a good thing to have your brother as your personal scribe,” he said. “His loyalty would be above reproach. The scribes assigned to the harem are on the whole discreet men, but a brother could be trusted to keep every secret safe.” I turned on him furiously.

“A scribe may not comment on the contents of the dictation!” I snapped. “You know that, Panauk! Please have the scroll sent as soon as possible. You are dismissed.” He gathered up his tools and bowed himself out, but his lack of respect had caused an ache in me and I was glad to listen to Disenk’s admiring chatter as she dressed me for my outing on the Nile.

Late in the following afternoon I sent for Hui’s Land Surveyor, Adiroma, requesting that he bring maps of the Fayum. He was a small, brisk man with a seamed face and hands clawed by disease. I watched as one of his deformed fingers traced the outline of my land on the papyrus he had spread out on my table.

“It is a munificent gift, Lady Thu,” he said. “It embraces good soil right on the edge of the lake. I see that it abuts temple property. I advise you to allow me to travel there with my assistants and ascertain the borders correctly, though perhaps the god’s men will not wish to contest the boundaries considering who has deeded it to you.” I thrilled to his easy use of my new title. The novelty of it would never wear off, I was sure.

“Thank you, Adiroma, that would be excellent,” I replied. “How long before you can report back to me?”

“With favourable winds I can be there in a day and a half,” he told me. “The survey will take two or three days. Before I go I will search the archives to make sure that the history of the land is pure. I am sure it will be.”

“So you will bring me word in about a week.” I straightened after casting one last proprietary look at the wandering trace on the map that enclosed a piece of Egypt belonging solely, completely, to me. Passing him a cup of beer, which he had said he preferred to wine, I said, “Take someone with you who can judge the fertility of the soil and make recommendations to me on its use. I intend to have it farmed, Adiroma.” He took the cup carefully in his gnarled hand.

“That is good, Lady. But if you make it yield you must have it handled by an honest Overseer. Too many harem women who own land only wish to add to their store of trinkets and baubles, and their servants grow fat on the remainder. Besides, if the land is not loved it will not produce well.” I felt myself warming to this capable little Surveyor.

“My father used to say the same thing,” I smiled. “Can you recommend such a person?”

“Of course. I will take one of the Master’s Overseers with me. My charge for the work will come out of your first crops.”

“Agreed.”

We drank our beer in leisurely fashion and when his cup was empty he rose, bowed, and went away, taking his maps with him.

18

IN THE FOLLOWING MONTHS
I scarcely saw my new quarters. Every day I was summoned to walk with Pharaoh, whose leg had completed its healing, or to tell him the stories about Aswat of which he never seemed to tire, or to massage away the tensions and worries that often stiffened his massive body. Every evening there was a feast or a boating party. Often there were temple ceremonies, for in addition to the seven days of holiday each month established by ancient custom there were the feast days of Amun every third day that Ramses had added to the sacerdotal calendar. Sometimes we took skiffs into the Delta marshes, and while Ramses and I reclined lazily on cushions his courtiers would stand poised on the prows of their crafts, ivory throwing sticks in their hands, waiting to bring down the ducks that lived in profusion amongst the high reed fronds.

Adiroma returned. He entered my quarters in the company of a tall, bronzed woman with a pleasant, well-painted face, and a direct gaze. They bowed, and Adiroma indicated her.

“Greetings, Lady Thu. May I present Wia, Overseer of Land and Cattle to the Master.” I blinked, hiding my surprise. I had never seen a female overseer before. I looked her over surreptitiously. There was nothing masculine about her, although she carried herself with confidence and I could imagine her striding purposefully over the fields. She returned my smile cautiously, sliding into the chair I offered and placing the scroll she was holding in her lap. I noticed that the nails of her blunt hands were cut very short.

“You are both welcome,” I said as Disenk poured beer in a glowing dark stream that caught one of the shafts of white light from my high windows. “What do you have to tell me, Adiroma?” He cleared his throat.

“The land is indeed beautiful,” he said. “The irrigation canals that bisect it are lined with healthy palm trees. There is a small date grove, and just within the desert boundary there is a house, very dilapidated but surrounded by pomegranate and sycamore trees. It has a tiny but neglected garden.”

“And the boundaries?”

“There is no problem.” He shuffled his notes. “To the north your land abuts that of the temple of Sebek and beyond his domain is his town. To the south is also a temple, that of Herishef. The west is desert and to the east, of course, is the waterway that feeds the lake. I have searched the records and the boundaries are secure and correct. They will not be disputed.”

Sebek the crocodile and Herishef the ram-headed. My precious land stood between two powerful gods of fertility. In fact Sebek was he-who-causes-to-be-pregnant, and many barren women made the pilgrimage to the lake to offer food to the god’s sacred manifestation who lived in the water. If the beast, whose ears and forelegs dripped with the gold and jewels with which the priests festooned him, accepted the food it was a sign of his benevolence. I would have to be very careful. I certainly did not want Sebek’s form of approval. I turned to Wia.

“Overseer,” I addressed her formally. “What of the soil? What do you recommend for my arouras?” Wia unrolled her scroll. One thick silver band encircled her brawny wrist.

“The soil is black and of excellent quality,” she said. “It has been abused by being allowed to revert to grass with the yearly flooding, and livestock has been pastured on it, but in my opinion it will yield much grain if the stubble is turned under after each harvest and the irrigation canals are kept clear.” She glanced at me. “The details are in my report, Lady Thu, which I will leave with you. The date grove has likewise been neglected but if pruned the trees will give a good return. The garden of the house will naturally provide vegetables and pomegranates, but not enough for barter.” I was impressed with her thoroughness.

“What do you suggest?” She let the scroll roll closed.

“Have the arouras dug over and seeded to barley. Prune and tend the dates. For the moment, have a portion of the house garden planted with chickpeas and garlic. Both can be sold. If you do this I can promise you a healthy profit.”

I sat thinking. I wanted the house repaired for my own use. Naturally I would have to visit my arouras from time to time to see to the work done there and besides, the idea of my very own dwelling thrilled me. A house would have to be built for my Overseer. Fellahin would have to be hired, seed purchased, and until the first harvest I would be carrying it all.

“Are there outbuildings?” I wanted to know. Adiroma nodded.

“The house kitchen, outdoor shrine and servants’ quarters survive but in very poor condition. However, as all of it is built of mud bricks the repairs can be swift and cheap.” Not cheap enough for me, I thought. Aloud I said, “Thank you both for your assessments. If you will submit your account to me I will promise to pay you from my first crop.” Wia smiled thinly. Adiroma coughed politely.

“As it happens,” he said hesitantly, “the Master has already paid us. He did not wish you to begin your farming venture under any debt, Lady Thu.”

For a moment I could not fill the silence that had fallen. I stared at the Surveyor blankly while a tide of dismay, apprehension and disappointment washed over me. I am still a child to Hui, I thought resignedly. He is still the benevolent father doling out favours. I can only break the bond by severing the threads that anchor me to him one at a time, yet how can I begin with this one? How can I pay for everything? I rose and immediately they followed suit. Wia placed her scroll on the table.

“Please thank the Master for me,” I said dully, “and tell him how much I appreciate his kind gesture. I will dictate a letter to him at once.” They bowed and left, and I regained my chair and sat forward, chin in hand, brooding. I would indeed thank Hui myself but I did not feel grateful. I felt suffocated, and suddenly remembering my last feast at his house, the odd, eager questions of the men, their inquisitive sharp eyes, I also felt threatened; why, I did not know. Hui loved me. Hui wanted only to help. Then why did it seem to me as though I was putting my hand into the gaping jaws of Smam-khefti-f? Ashamed and yet uneasy I spoke to Disenk. “Bring me my jewellery box.”

I sat with the pretty ebony and ivory box on my knees and sifted through the contents, mostly the various earrings and bracelets, anklets and hair ornaments Ramses had tossed my way in his careless, generous manner. I selected a silver necklace studded with jasper suns and a silver bracelet engraved with a series of Eyes of Horus and hung with the god’s golden tears. Reluctantly I handed them to my servant. What were they worth? A deben at least. Enough to buy food for how many workmen for a year? Two to repair the house and outbuildings. One Overseer. Three for the field work and care of the trees. A deben would buy grain, vegetables, fish and beer for them if I and they were careful. “Take these to Amunnakht,” I said to Disenk. “Tell him that I want the equivalent in edible goods over the next year, beginning at once.” Seeing her expression I explained. “I need to pay my workmen. Amunnakht will not cheat me.”

“Neither will the Master,” Disenk protested. “Go to him, Lady. He will take your silver and you will not lie awake at night worrying about his honesty.”

“No.” I laid the baubles gently on her tiny palm. “No, Disenk. I want to do this my own way. Obtain a receipt from the Keeper of the Door.”

But where would I find my staff? I wondered anxiously when she had gone. I was determined not to ask Hui for help. I did not want to be more obligated to him than I already was, for the more I owed him the more guilty I would feel about my increasing reluctance to further his ambitions with regard to Pharaoh, yet I had no other resource. I did not want to rely on Ramses either. The land was mine alone, a proof of my passage into adulthood, its soil a symbol of my success, and I wanted to nurse its rebirth as carefully as though it had emerged from my own body. That image, springing vividly into my mind, was not as pleasant as it should have been and I poured myself a cup of the rich barley beer and drank it quickly.

In the end it was Hunro who found a reliable overseer for me, a man who was working on her brother Banemus’s estate as an assistant to Banemus’s Chief Overseer and who was worthy of promotion. I met with him, was satisfied with his answers to my questions, and hired him, requisitioning my first goods from Amunnakht and sending my new servant south. I did so with great pride, and with even greater pride I received his letter a month later, a detailed account of all that had been done and a list of his disbursements. I was on my way to the secure wealth I had always craved.

Two months later I had not heard from Pa-ari. Aswat had answered my letter with a heavy silence and though I was becoming anxious I did not write again. The Chief Royal Herald of the House of Women assured me that my scroll had been delivered safely, and I refused to beg Pa-ari to come. However, my Overseer’s letters arrived regularly and I read with delight how he and his charges had repaired the servants’ quarters for their immediate use and were making good progress on the house. The date palms were being pruned and the fields cleared of debris. I longed to see it but I wanted to wait until it was entirely restored.

I did not mention the work being done there to Ramses and he did not ask how I was enjoying my responsibilities as a landowner. He had received word that his trading vessels were about to dock at Pi-Ramses. The mission had been completely successful, and Pharaoh was preoccupied with planning the ceremonies of welcome and the distribution of the goods the ships contained. He and his Chief Minister of Protocol were closeted together for many hours, and I was informed by Disenk that the High Priest of Amun was on his way from Thebes.

I was with the King when the scrolls containing the extent of the bounty were brought to him by Tehuti. Wrapped loosely in a sheet, I sat on his couch, fruit and wine at my hand, while the sweet aroma of burning olive wood drifted through the room from the brazier in the corner and the lamps gave out a steady glow. The evening was cool, and Ramses himself had flung a woollen cape over his short kilt when he had gone to sit in his chair at the announcement of his scribe’s entrance.

The man bowed, tumbling his lists onto the table, and at Pharaoh’s nod he selected one and opened it. Behind him two other scribes went to the floor, settling their palettes across their knees. One I recognized. He was Tehuti’s assistant. The other wore a golden armband with the likeness of Amun imprinted upon it. The god’s twin plumes rose tall and graceful from his crown and his benign face seemed to radiate a contented complacency. This scribe came from Thebes, from the Temple of Amun. Ramses sighed and smiled, and only I detected the resignation behind the inviting expression on his face. “Begin,” he ordered. With a glance at me, Tehuti took a breath.