Authors: Pauline Gedge
“I do not know. Perhaps he is too busy.” Deliberately he withdrew and closed the door and I was left to make my way towards the harem. The guards at the meeting of passage and path greeted me quietly and I answered them absently. What did Hui want? Was something wrong? Had there been bad news from Aswat about my mother, my father? I sighed audibly as Disenk heard me coming and opened for me. Why had Hui not sent a message to my quarters? I did not worry about it overmuch. I was too relieved to be back in Pharaoh’s bed.
Early in the morning I received word that Ramses was too occupied to travel at present but I was to be ready to sail to the Fayum at dawn the following day. At once I ordered out my skiff, hoping irritably that news of my visit to the Master would not reach Pharaoh and make him wonder why I had fled to my old home as soon as I was restored to favour. His jealousy was seldom expressed but very real and I did not want to prompt it so soon. As unobtrusively as possible I slipped out my private door, along the path, through the main entrance of the harem, with Disenk behind me, but of course I passed several guards on the way and Hunro, swimming her lengths in the pool just within the boundary of the House of Women, waved to me as I left.
However, once on the Lake I regained my equilibrium. The morning was fresh, with a strong breeze blowing off the water that tugged at the hangings of my cabin and pulled at my hair. My helmsman was singing softly as he guided us. My two rowers were working in unison. I could see their naked backs gleaming in the sun. The road on the bank was almost empty.
I could have reclined on my cushions for ever, savouring the feeling of freedom the scent of the orchards brought to me, but all too soon Hui’s watersteps came into sight and we berthed, the helmsman scrambling from his perch to run out the ramp for me. This time no delegation waited to welcome me home. Disenk and I walked under the pylon. Hui’s porter rose from his stool and at my terse order let us proceed. The only sounds came from the birds who whistled and piped above us.
The courtyard glared white and deserted but beyond the entrance pillars there were the subdued murmurings of household industry. A servant padded by at the far end of the long passage, catching the shaft of light from the open rear doors as he went. There was a clatter of dishes upstairs and an abrupt, nasal laugh. We waited. Presently the imposing form of Harshira emerged from the gloom in which we stood, and coming towards us with his usual unhurried dignity he bowed.
“I see that I am not expected, Harshira,” I said.
“You are indeed expected, Lady Thu,” the Steward replied calmly, “but we did not know at what time. Please forgive me this lapse. Disenk, you may wait in the servants’ quarters. The Master is in his office, Lady.” I nodded and brushed by him.
I knocked on the office door, and at the invitation to enter I went in. The inner office was open and as I approached it Hui came out. He looked tired but his smile was generous as he saw who it was. Taking my hands he pulled me forward. “Thu!” he exclaimed. “So my message reached you. Sit down.” I arranged myself in the familiar chair that had received me so many times before.
“I cannot stay for long, Hui,” I said. “Tomorrow Pharaoh and I are sailing to the Fayum to inspect my land. Why did you not come to see me yourself?” He had perched on the edge of his desk and was looking down on me.
“So you are back in the King’s favour,” he said thoughtfully. “Good. I am sorry for the summons, Thu, but there is an outbreak of fever in the city and many noble families have required my attention. Tell me what happened between Ramses and you.”
“I am surprised that Paibekamun has not acquainted you with every word!” I responded hotly. “I resent that man, Hui. He has a secret contempt for me. There is no human warmth in him!” Hui leaned down and stroked my cheek and as always at his touch I felt my indignation begin to evaporate.
“Tell me, little one,” he repeated gently.
“It was your fault,” I said sulkily. “The scribes were there and Ramses was making decisions about the apportionment of the goods the trading vessels brought home. I listened, and afterwards I remonstrated with him. Too much was going to Amun and not enough into the royal coffers. He was very angry. He gave me a precise lesson in royal policy and sent me away.” I swallowed. “I was in disgrace for three whole days, Hui! For three days I was scorned by all and I did not know if Pharaoh would ever invite me into his presence again!”
“But he did.” Hui folded his arms. “He is your prisoner, Thu. He may appear to discipline you but he cannot live without you. After a decent interval you can bring up the subject again. Eventually he will submit.” I stiffened.
“No, I don’t think he will,” I said deliberately. “I trusted your judgement, Master, but in this instance I believe it to be flawed. I have come to know Ramses better than you. He is perfectly aware of his situation, its causes and its dangers. He will not act to free himself because he cannot. I will never be able to change his mind, and I have no intention of trying any more.” I rose and faced him. It took an act of courage to meet his eyes, this man who had been friend and mentor, father, judge and arbiter of my fate since I was little more than a child. I felt as though I was standing against a god. “I owe you everything, Hui,” I went on with difficulty. “All my dreams have come true because of you, and I can never repay you for all you have done. But I can no longer risk losing all I have gained. You and your friends—they think that Egypt can be righted, that Ma’at can be restored, but I have come to the conclusion that under Ramses it is impossible. Besides, which Ma’at, Hui? The Ma’at of an Egypt long gone? I will not plead the cause you follow with Pharaoh any more. I beg you to forgive me.”
He did not move. His whole body went very still, apart from his eyes which travelled my face, sliding over each feature and back again. His own face was curiously blank. For a long time I stood tensely under his examination, outwardly calm but inwardly trembling. Then he sighed, nodded, and slid from the desk.
“Very well, Thu,” he said equably. “You have been an obedient girl. You have done your best for me. Of course I forgive you. Now.” He walked to the open door of the inner office. “You are in a hurry. What do you need to refurbish your medicine box?”
“I forgot to bring the box, Master,” I said humbly. “But I need more acacia spikes. They are very important to me. And castor oil, and grey antimony for my salves. Cinnamon and fresh natron …” He held up a finger.
“I will make them up for you. Meanwhile, drink some wine.” He pulled the door closed behind him, and miserably I poured wine and stared into its scarlet depths. I had let him down. I had failed him, and no matter how strong my resolve to avoid the subject of policy with Pharaoh in the future, I wished things could be different.
Hui emerged with a small chest which he placed in my hands. “The acacia spikes may appear to have a slightly blackish tinge,” he said. “But do not worry. They are still efficacious even though they were harvested some time ago.” Brushing the hair from my forehead he placed a lingering kiss between my eyes, sighed again, and pushed me kindly towards the passage. “Be happy, little Thu,” he said. “I wish you well.” A stab of alarm went through me. His words sounded like a farewell. I swung round to speak but his door was closing, and even as I stepped forward it was firmly shut.
Lifting my hand to knock I paused and lay my fingers flat against the fragrant cedar wood. No. I had made a decision. I had cut one more thread that bound the child I no longer was to the Seer who must not control my destiny any more. Nevertheless I was troubled as I sent for Disenk and we walked back to where my skiff rocked, and I saw the ramp run in and the ropes cast off with a sense of foreboding. Behind lay the roots I had sunk day by day, month by month, during my long sojourn in Hui’s house. Ahead was the palace, where I was not yet anchored by any but the most delicate tendrils. I felt uncomfortably defenceless.
But just after dawn the next day I made my way proudly to the palace watersteps where the royal barge floated, waiting for me. The morning still held a fleeting coolness and the fragile pink in the eastern sky had not yet turned to blue. Although the distance to the Fayum was not great, little more than a day’s swift sailing, a whole flotilla of craft jostled behind Pharaoh’s boat and the steps were crowded with servants weaving their dance of preparation and calling to each other. All movement ceased as I came into view, Disenk behind me carrying the box containing my needs for the journey, and every head was lowered. I had placed a foot on the ramp of the barge when there was a further commotion. Ramses was coming, surrounded by his servants and guards. He strode purposefully towards me, smiling, looking refreshed, his jewelled sandals briskly slapping the stone. I, along with everyone else, prostrated myself. “Up!” Ramses barked, and I felt his heavy hand on my neck. “A fine morning, a beautiful morning,” he almost sang. As I rose he flung an arm around my shoulders and ushered me onto the deck where chairs and cushions had been arranged.
In a flurry of activity the ramp was pulled in, the helmsman scrambled up to his post, the guards deployed themselves around the edges of the deck, and we cast off. The imperial flags of blue and white began to flap as they caught the breeze, and the captain’s voice echoed as he set the pace for the rowers.
Ramses sank into a chair, lifted his feet onto a cushion, and folded his hands across his abdomen. He was wearing a long, pleated skirt fringed in gold tassels and topped by a filmy tunic. The royal Uraeus glinted above his wide forehead, and his gold-worked linen helmet moved stiffly against the gems lying across his collar-bones as he turned to beam at me. “A brief respite from the demands of the court,” he said happily, “and my scorpion will once more be transformed into something less venomous. A dove, perhaps? A lamb? I feel expansive today, my Lady Thu, so we will sit here under the shade of the awning and allow my subjects to catch a glimpse of my holy person. Is not the season of Peret still glorious, though Shemu is almost upon us? Once past the city we will delight in the greenness of the orchards, and the crops springing thick in the fields.” He leaned sideways and his kohled eyes twinkled into mine. “You see,” he went on. “For your sake I am turning myself into a farmer today. Would I make a good farmer, Thu? It is a pity that you received your land too late to be sown this year, but we can stand in the mud together and take a rustic satisfaction in the future!” He was teasing me and I answered him in the same vein as the jumbled might of Pi-Ramses drifted past, its filth and noise interspersed with scented fruit trees and the flower-bedecked gardens and white watersteps of the rich.
At noon we ate and then retired to the sumptuous cabin where we made love and slept, and when we emerged into the bronze glow of the late afternoon the barge was still gliding on, seeking the canal that would turn us west towards the Fayum oasis.
As evening fell all the lamps were lit and we floated on, a string of bright stars resting on the bosom of the river. Often, during that magical day, the people on the bank would look up, stare, and then cry out to one another, “It is the King! The God is passing!” and I would hold tight to Ramses’ hand as they bowed and called blessings to us that rang in my ears like precious music.
Not long into the dark hours we entered the cabin once more, talking quietly before our bodies curled together in peace and sleep, and when we woke, the barge had already docked at the Fayum.
The Fayum, with its vast lake surrounded by thousands of lush green fields and abundant groves of trees, is a jewel of beauty and fertility set in the midst of the desert, but I remember little of the things I saw. For one small sliver of it was mine and mine alone, and the emotion that seized me as Ramses and I stepped from the barge onto that soil cannot be described. Wordlessly I trod my ten arouras, and the image of myself toiling across the broken clods of my father’s field to wrap my arms around his solid thigh and beg to go to school came vividly into my mind. Already I could see the results of the work that had been done. The irrigation ditches lined with palms had been partially cleared. Fresh, dark and earthy-smelling, the sod which had been grass for grazing was turned under and would be broken up so that my seed could be sown at the beginning of the next season of Peret.
Ramses did not walk with me. After taking one look at the sun-soaked, rough ground he ordered a chair and sat beside his litter, watching me as I paced to and fro. But when I had taken my fill he picked his way with me up the shattered stone path to my door, through the ravaged garden and beside the scummed pool, and received with me the obeisances of my servants. The Overseer apologized for the state of the garden. “I thought it necessary to begin work immediately in the fields and to rebuild the house and servants’ quarters,” he explained anxiously. “I hope I am following your instructions faithfully, Lady Thu. The garden and the pool will be restored when more important tasks have been accomplished.” I agreed with him of course. Ramses grunted rather disparagingly as we made the short tour of the house itself. It was unfurnished, the rooms small, but I loved it. Excitedly I planned what I would do with every corner, and I pleaded with Ramses to allow me to spend one night in it alone.
“But it smells musty and is probably full of noxious insects,” he grumbled. “Scorpions lurk in cool places.” Then he grinned. “But you have an affinity to scorpions, don’t you, Thu? Very well. You may rest here tonight providing you are guarded.” I thanked him effusively, he went on smiling benevolently, and at sunset Disenk set up a cot in one of the rooms and palace guards took up their station outside.
I did not sleep much. I lay in the dark, listening to the tranquil silence, hugging my joy tightly to myself as the hours flowed away. Twice I got up and wandered into the moon-drenched, tangled garden, not minding the rank odour that rose from the black water of the pool or the patches of brittle weeds over which I sometimes stumbled. It was mine. All of it belonged to me.
Peasantlike I had formed an immediate bond with the earth. It would not betray me. It would not reward my care and diligence with the ingratitude of selfishness. It would recognize the melody I would play through my honest Overseer and his staff and would respond by weaving a harmony of fecundity. It would give in response to my love. I did not want to leave it, and in the morning I prostrated myself on the threshold of my house, and incense in my hands I prayed that Bes, bringer of happiness to all homes, would infuse every room with his presence and drive from them all evil.