Seer of Egypt (21 page)

As they left the barge, Huy expected Nasha to throw herself on him exuberantly as she used to do when he came to stay as a pupil of the temple school, but she fell into step with Ishat, behind him. “Thothmes has talked of nothing but you for months and months,” Huy heard her say as she slid her arm through Ishat’s. “He’s become as boring as a wilted leek. I thank all the gods most fervently that you’re here at last and, now that he’s got you, that he’ll go back to being an efficient Assistant Governor and fill his dinner conversation with equally boring but different information. There’s a small meal set out for us all, but then we’ll go into my quarters and have a good gossip. I’m excited to get to know you, my new sister-in-law.”

Huy sensed rather than saw Ishat begin to relax. He wanted to interrupt Nasha, to ask her if Anuket had arrived with her husband, but his eyes were on the Governor’s bent spine ahead of him, and pity and anxiety quickly edged out any thought of Nakht’s younger daughter.

Huy entered the house on a tide of vivid memories. The painted grapevines twining about the white pillars of the entrance hall, the ebony chairs with their intricate ivory inlays scattered about, the strong shafts of sunlight pouring down from the clerestory windows cut just beneath the blue ceiling and pooling on the green tiling underfoot, all spoke to him of his boyhood on this gracious yet comfortable estate. The voice of Nakht’s wife, long dead of an accident, whispered a greeting to him from the stair leading up to the women’s quarters, and he glanced up as he crossed the expanse, half expecting to see her face smiling down at him, but the sound was only the conversation of two servants, heads together, as they mounted out of his sight. He heard the clatter of Thothmes’ bow and arrows as the boy flung them onto the nearest chair before heading for the bathhouse. As they moved towards the dining hall, a strong whiff of drying herbs mingled with the aroma of freshly cut flowers came funnelling at him from a side passage, bringing with it Anuket’s tiny, solemn face as she sat cross-legged on the floor of the herb room, a half-woven wreath in her decorously clad lap, and looked up as he knelt beside her. He wanted to reach out and touch Thothmes between his shoulder blades, ground himself with the warmth of his friend’s living flesh, and as though Thothmes had divined the thought, he looked back and raised his eyebrows.

“Is it good to be back here, Huy, or are you overwhelmed?” he asked.

Before Huy could answer, the dining hall opened out and Nakht indicated a chair set down beside the cushions and flower-laden tables. “I can’t lower myself to the floor anymore,” he explained to Huy as Thothmes helped him to sit. “Nasha, tell Ptahhotep he may begin to serve. Ishat my dear, take this table by my knee so that we can talk.”

Nasha had already pulled Huy down beside her. Thothhotep settled herself at his rear, the ever-present palette to hand. Huy wished uncomfortably that she was not close enough to hear whatever Nasha was going to say. He still did not know her well enough to feel at ease as she began to fill Ishat’s position as his scribe. Nasha clapped her hands sharply and nodded across the room at Ptahhotep. Then she plunged a hand into Huy’s hair and, dragging his head towards her, planted a kiss on his forehead.

“You may be Egypt’s mighty Seer and all that,” she said as food-laden servants began to glide towards them, “but to me you’re just a brother I’ve missed. So tell me everything, Huy. Your letters have been a poor substitute for the sound of your voice.” Picking the flowers off the surface of her table, she tumbled them against his chest. “Ishat is as beautiful as Thothmes said,” she went on. “As soon as I saw her, I remembered seeing her when Father and Thothmes and I visited you in your parents’ house many years ago. She was all arms and legs then. She doesn’t say much, though, does she? Will I like her, Huy?”

“She talks a great deal and always to the point,” Huy broke in, amused, “but how can she open her mouth when you natter on, Nasha? You’d better decide to win her over. As an enemy, she’d be as strong as you.”

“Oh, good! I mean, someone as strong as me, not as an enemy. Anuket was never much of a friend even though she’s my sister, and of course Meri-Hathor got married and left home long ago. She’ll be back tomorrow with her husband for the feast. Absolutely everyone will fill this hall in honour of Thothmes and his new wife. Anuket and her husband, Amunnefer, arrive tomorrow as well. High Priest Ramose has been invited, and the Rekhet, and even Harmose, your school Overseer, will be here, not to mention every aristocrat in the sepat. Father is intensely proud of Thothmes and he obviously approves of Ishat. Look at them.” She waved a spoon to where Ishat and Nakht were deep in conversation, she kneeling up so that he need not bend down, while three servants with steaming trays waited patiently to fill their plates. “Oh, Huy, Thothmes is holding one of Ishat’s hands while she talks to Father! How sweet!” She sighed with pleasure and indicated that she was ready to eat.

Huy sank willingly into his old, well-remembered habit of a teasing closeness with Nasha, speaking to her of his life under the King’s generosity with the ease of a returning familiarity once she had exhausted her own excitement and was ready to listen. Around them the servants of Nakht’s well-trained staff wove their quiet pattern, refilling plates and pouring wine. Huy found his attention divided between Nasha’s happy conversation and the interaction between Nakht, Ishat, and Thothmes. Ishat looked suddenly tired, although she smiled and continued to talk to both men. Huy could not hear what was being said.
She needs an hour or two on a couch all by herself,
he thought worriedly.
Thothmes, you surely must see how much of a strain all this has been for her!

“She’s not your responsibility anymore,” Nasha said. “Yes, I can still interpret your expressions, Huy, whether sour or pleased or just bewildered. You used to be bewildered a lot in the old days, didn’t you? Father has asked me to take charge of her until after the contract is finally ratified tomorrow night. Look—he’s already signalling me. Spend the rest of the afternoon with Thothmes. He wants to show you the house he’s building for the two of them. I’ll look after your Ishat.” She patted his knee and rose.

Ptahhotep bent reverentially towards Huy. “Your pardon, Master. The Governor must rest now, but he wishes your presence in his office at sundown, if that is acceptable to you.”

Huy nodded. Thothmes was waving at him as Ishat, with Iput behind, followed Nasha out of the room.

“I’m too excited to rest,” Thothmes said as Huy reached him. “Tetiankh is unpacking your gear in your old room. Thothhotep, I’m afraid you’ll have to sleep aboard my barge. This is a large house, but for the next few days it will be overflowing with guests.”

Huy answered his scribe’s raised eyebrows with a gesture. “I may need you in a while,” he said, and as he spoke, it came to him that Thothhotep had a quality that was rare but prized among scribes: in spite of a personality that was far from lacklustre, she had the unconscious ability to fade into any background so that very quickly one forgot that she was in the room. “Will you be comfortable on the barge?”

She acquiesced coolly. “I shall go at once and set myself up in the cabin, and then return.”

“Thank you, Thothhotep,” he replied formally, with a rush of new respect for this determined little waif, her palette clutched to her skinny bosom and her eyes watchful. She bowed once, swiftly, and walked towards the entrance hall.

Thothmes took Huy’s arm. “Through the garden, a short walk by the river, and you’ll be very pleased with the home I am preparing for Ishat. Then we can go up to my room and talk. It’s so good to have you here with me, Huy. We’ll arrange with Harmose to revisit the school before you go back to Hut-herib. Perhaps, when you and I have finished tramping all over Iunu together, you’ll change your mind about moving back here.”

Huy did not reply. He followed his friend out into the white glare of the spring afternoon.

In spite of the tumbled piles of grey mud bricks everywhere, the churned sand littered with broken pots and discarded whitewash brushes baking in the sun, the architect’s table laden with scrolls and the man’s tools of his trade under the thin shade of a canopy, Huy easily filled in what was yet to come as he gazed at the roofless building and through the doorless aperture to an inner court where four pillars had already been erected and an empty pool waited for water. “My architect has gone for his afternoon sleep,” Thothmes said, “but you can look at the plans later if you like. I wanted a house designed around a central court, with an upper storey also open to the air in the centre. This”—he waved over the dusty muddle—“this will be a garden eventually, with date palms and sycamores and acacia hedges and plenty of flowers. I thought a trellis covered with grapevines leading from the front entrance to the water-steps might be shady and beautiful. What do you think? I’m still waiting for the stonemasons to come and set the watersteps in place. Will she like it, Huy? I’ve ordered a door of cedar inlaid with silver.”

“I think that Ishat is the luckiest woman in Egypt,” Huy replied slowly. “You’re building her a shrine, you know that, don’t you?”

Thothmes looked away. “I never expected to be in love. I expected Father to find me a suitable mate from among our acquaintances. I expected to settle down in peace.” A fly had landed on his jasper-studded belt and was sucking up the salt of his sweat where his taut belly was exposed. He made no move to brush it away; he merely stared at it reflectively. “Love is uncomfortable,” he went on. “It’s like a disease. She fills my mind so that I cannot concentrate on anything else. I don’t notice what I eat or drink. I’m hot somewhere inside myself, but I can’t find the site of the fire. And then, when I am with her, free to touch her, kiss her, I am still in pain because I’m jealous of the sheath that clings so closely to her body, the rings on her fingers. If she smiles at someone else, I want to sulk like a little boy.” Now he turned to look directly into Huy’s face. “Was it like that for you?”

“For me with Anuket? Yes, it was. The burden was heavy, Thothmes, because I could take no freedoms with her as you can with Ishat. None at all. I envy you. For a long time I was very bitter, especially knowing that even if your father had given her to me, the gods would have prevented me from enjoying a full intimacy with her.”

“And now? You’re afraid to see her tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I’m afraid that my own flame will leap into life. Time has healed much of me, but not all.” He swung abruptly away. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. Ishat will be more than pleased with her new house. Now, may I go to my room? I want to sleep.”

“Forgive me, Huy.” Thothmes flicked one gold-gripped finger at the fly then batted at it as it rose towards his neck. “I seem to be apologizing to you a great deal, don’t I? But I wanted you to know exactly how I feel towards Ishat, how I shall cherish her and take care of her always, how in giving her up to me you are placing me in your debt for the rest of my life.”

Huy glanced at him curiously. “But Ishat has never been a slave. She was free to choose her future, and she chose to become your wife.”

Thothmes bit his lip. “If you had pressed her to stay with you, she would have denied me. You love her. Yet instead of influencing her decision, you let her go. I’m not stupid. I know what that has cost you.”

“I can bed no woman. I have told you this!” Huy replied harshly. “Only Anuket ate at my vitals. My love for Ishat is different! She deserves something better than the aridity of my company, Thothmes. Now, for the last time, I am content to see her contracted to you and I bear you no ill will. For Set’s sake, let it go!”

Thothmes grimaced. “You’re right. Well, let’s go back now and sleep. I’m glad you think that Ishat will like her house.” They linked arms and, picking their way through the debris, regained Nakht’s green, well-ordered garden.

The meal that evening was a subdued affair. Ptahhotep and the servants were clearly preoccupied with their tasks for the following day. There was no music. Nakht did not appear. Thothmes, Huy, Nasha, and Ishat pushed their low tables close to one another, but their conversation was sporadic. Huy thought that Ishat still looked tired. She told him that she had managed to rest and even sleep a little but the unfamiliar room had disturbed her. Huy himself, after standing for a long time in the middle of the room where he had spent a multitude of nights, had flung himself onto the couch with the same feeling of relief and safety that had always filled him there as a boy. Nakht’s house had been a sanctuary, a place where nothing could reach out to harm him, and where he had slept even more deeply than on his cot in the school cell he had shared with Thothmes. Closing his eyes, he had tumbled into a profound slumber, waking only when Tetiankh leaned over him, a goblet of diluted date syrup and a couple of honey cakes on a tray balanced in his hand.

Now Huy had barely finished his fare when Ptahhotep bent over his shoulder. “Your pardon, Master Huy, but the Governor wishes to see you as soon as possible,” the steward said. Huy nodded, pushed his table away, and rose. Turning, he saw that Thothhotep had also risen from her place behind him, picking up her palette from the tiles as she did so. He did not remember seeing her enter the hall.

Nasha had overheard Ptahhotep. “We want to go on the river in the twilight,” she said, indicating Ishat and Thothmes. “Shall we wait for you, Huy? Unfortunately, Father cannot talk to anyone for very long these days, and I know that he plans to stay on his couch all day tomorrow so that he’ll be strong enough to receive the guests in the evening.”

Ishat looked up sharply then signalled to Iput, hovering by the wall. “You have an interview with Nakht?” she said. “You’ll need me, then. Iput, go and fetch my palette.”

Huy forestalled her. “You are no longer my scribe, Ishat. You have trained Thothhotep well. She can begin her service now.”

Ishat’s expression became mutinous. Half rising, she glared at Huy.
I know exactly what you are thinking,
he said to her silently.
You want to be present to hear the Governor’s words. You want to discuss them with me afterwards as you always did—but, Ishat, everything has changed. It’s time to say farewell to those days.
She must have read something of his thoughts in his eyes, for after a moment she gave one sharp nod and the anger left her face. “So be it,” she whispered, sitting back on her cushion.