Seer of Egypt (31 page)

“A little. If Tetiankh is outside in the passage, send him to the kitchen.”
Put your hand on my forehead the way you used to do,
he beseeched her silently.
Massage my head.
She was watching him doubtfully. She looked truly beautiful in her scarlet sheath. Gold dusted her eyelids and cheeks. Her mouth was hennaed, her hair caught up in the gold mesh that could be attached to the circlet she had ordered from the jeweller in Hut-herib and that he, or more properly the King, had paid for. She could have passed for any aristocrat. Reaching out and taking her hand, he turned it over. The orange henna felt slightly rough to his questing fingers. Absurdly, he wanted to cry.

“When you’ve eaten, will you join Thothmes and me on the raft?” she wanted to know as she rose. “We’re just going to sit on it and be rocked by the river in the torchlight and drink wine and talk. Nasha may come too. Please, Huy?”

“Perhaps. I feel dirty and slightly nauseous. How is Nakht?”

“He ate in his own quarters.” She opened the door and spoke a few words to Tetiankh, then regained the couch and bent towards him. “I’m glad he asked you to See for him. Perhaps the god will be pleased to heal him?”

Huy shook his head. “He doesn’t want it. He misses his wife. He has nothing left to look forward to but grandchildren, and that’s no great lure for him. The AA disease is merciless, Ishat. Let him go.”

“Still, I hope there will be time to get to know him better,” Ishat sighed. “I could easily learn to love him.”

They both became quiet, but it was a close, companionable thing. Huy’s mind sharpened as he pulled himself free of the last effects of the opium, and by the time Tetiankh entered with a loaded tray, his appetite had fully returned. Ishat left the couch and went to the chair, and while Huy ate, they talked easily of innocuous matters. Huy knew that Ishat was more than curious about the Seeing he had done for Anuket, and he waited for her inquisitiveness to get the better of her. At last she said, “I suppose Thothhotep took the dictation for the Seeing, Huy? Did she perform well? Do you need me to check her work?”

Huy began to smile and then to laugh, engulfed in a wave of love for her. “Her deportment was exemplary, Ishat, and as for the scrolls, I’ll check them myself before giving Anuket her copy. You know perfectly well I can say nothing about what I Saw.”

Ishat made a face that took Huy back to their time together in Hut-herib. “If I was still your scribe, I’d know. We’d discuss the Seeing.”

“But you are no longer my scribe. Now I think I’ll go to the bathhouse with Tetiankh and then meet you and Thothmes on the river. I’m almost fully recovered.”

Getting up, she came and planted a swift kiss on his cheek before admitting the servant, tossed back a smile, and disappeared. Huy wrapped a sheet around himself and took the stairs to the bathhouse, now dimly lit by one lamp. The water was barely warm. Huy refused Tetiankh’s offer to heat it, standing on the bathing block while Tetiankh scrubbed him down and thinking of all the occasions when he and Thothmes had come here together, covered in river mud or sweat or simply getting ready to begin their day, when every moment had been full of the pleasure of holiday, and Nakht had been strong and vigorous, and Anuket had been in the herb room every morning, weaving her wreaths and bouquets amid the mingled aromas of flowers and drying herbs, and the future stretched ahead in all its promise. Nostalgia began to wind about him, but before it could tighten its hold on his heart, he bade Tetiankh dress him and tie back his long hair.

Walking through the house, he met no one. The garden too was empty and peaceful, but beyond the watersteps there was a glow of welcoming yellow light and Nasha’s loud laughter. Huy ran to join his friends. There was no sign of either Amunnefer or Anuket, and he was glad. Settling on a pile of cushions, he accepted a cup of palm wine, returned Nasha’s impudent kiss, and gave himself up to the warm night.

There was no serious conversation. Old jokes were aired and rather lamely explained to Ishat, who had no history with the family. Nasha regaled them with all the latest local gossip. Huy joined in but often fell silent, content to watch the play of wind-tugged light and shadow pass across these faces that were so very dear to him. Thothmes kept Ishat’s fingers woven with his. Nasha half lay with her head inches from Huy’s thigh, gesticulating widely with her cup. The river was a dark, slowly heaving presence, moving the huge raft sluggishly and soporifically beneath them. On the watersteps, the two guards carried on their own intermittent exchange, a pair of dark shapes against the tangle of black foliage hiding the house.
I will never forget this,
Huy thought.
Only the Paradise of Osiris can surpass the peace and sweetness of these hours, and I will not think of the Beautiful West now, not with Nakht’s slow dying, not with the Book of Thoth lying deep beneath everything I do or think or say. Now I will exist, just exist and nothing more, caught willingly in this moment where time has ceased to flow, where we do not grow old or ill, where change and decay are impossible.
In the end the talk faltered and then ceased altogether, and they fell deeply asleep on the cushions, limbs entwined, Thothmes enfolding Ishat, Nasha’s cheek against Huy’s calf. His dreams were gentle.

They woke as one, roused by the brief chill that heralded the imminent birth of Ra, and scattered quickly to their different quarters. Huy made his way through a house already full of the bustle of servants sweeping, dusting, and setting out the tables for the first meal of the day. They reverenced him and he greeted them absently, intent on finding Tetiankh and seeing that his chests were packed. On his way upstairs he met Amunnefer coming down. It was too late to retreat. His heart sank as he bowed and Amunnefer came to a halt.

“Huy,” the man said heavily, “I looked for you last night, but your body servant told me that you were ill and had retired early. So it is true that the Seeings you perform make you sick?”

Huy nodded, inwardly blessing Tetiankh.

“I’m sorry,” Amunnefer continued. “Anuket is much distressed by what you told her. She did not fall asleep until an hour ago. She will not talk to me about it. Are you permitted to give me some hint regarding what you Saw?”

“No,” Huy answered to the homely, worried face. “All I can suggest to you is that you keep her close to you at all times, particularly at night.”

“There is danger for her while Ra is in the womb of Nut?” Amunnefer’s expression cleared. “She knows what kind?”

“It is not quite that simple,” Huy replied. “I wish I could say more.”

Amunnefer regarded him closely, his eyes moving from Huy’s own to Huy’s mouth and back to his eyes. Huy could almost hear the man’s rapid thoughts. Finally, Amunnefer lifted his shoulders and held out his hands, hennaed palms up. “She is an Egyptian wife, and a noblewoman at that,” he said slowly. “No law allows me to forcibly keep her in her quarters, or on the estate for that matter.”

“But you can amuse her, play board games, take her on the river, perhaps even share the problems of your governorship with her.”

Amunnefer’s mouth twisted. “I try. If you would confide the Seeing to me, I might understand.” He paused. Huy said nothing, and after a moment Amunnefer swung away. “I do not hold this against you, Great Seer,” he called back as he reached the foot of the stairs. “You acceded to my request reluctantly and I apologize for compelling you. Expect regular letters from me regarding your investment.”

Grimly, Huy took the few remaining steps to his room. Merenra, Tetiankh, and Thothhotep turned as he entered.

“The chests are ready to be taken on board and Thothhotep has checked that nothing will be left behind,” Merenra said. “Shall I alert your captain, Master?”

“Yes. Put Anhur in charge of the servants’ barge. I’ll eat with the family, pay my respects to Nakht, and then we can go. Thothhotep, have you delivered the scroll to the Lady Anuket?”

“I have, and the original will not leave my pouch until I file it in your office.”

“Good. Tetiankh, I’ll bathe now.”

On their way to the bathhouse, Huy thanked him for his protection from Amunnefer. “You need not thank me, Master,” Tetiankh replied crisply. “I was merely doing my duty.”

And so was I this morning,
Huy thought.
Then why do I feel as though I have betrayed a friend?

The meal was a sober affair. Nasha, obviously suffering from an overindulgence of wine the evening before, yawned often and answered Huy’s attempts at conversation in monosyllables. Ishat picked at her food, her eyes on Huy, but when he looked at her directly, her gaze slid away from his.

Even Thothmes’ customary cheerfulness had deserted him. “I wish you would stay in Iunu permanently,” he begged Huy yet again. “Soon I’ll be Governor. I’ll make sure you get a good piece of land right on the river where you can build.” He leaned across and touched Huy’s shoulder. “A Governor must choose his friends very carefully or he risks being accused of partiality in his dealings with the citizens of his sepat. Our affection for each other exists far above such corruption—except in deeding land to you, of course!” He grinned but only succeeded in looking ghoulish. “You are my only friend in a sea of acquaintances, Huy. I need you.”

Huy pushed away the plate of delicacies before him. “I need you also, Thothmes, but you know why I must remain in Hut-herib. I will come when your beautiful house is finished.”

“I do know, but I’ll keep trying to seduce you here,” Thothmes sighed.

They sat on while a pall of silence fell over the dusky room.

Nakht was lying propped up on pillows when Huy was admitted by the body servant, and for one anxious moment Huy believed that he was approaching a corpse. The Governor’s skeletal arms lay limply on the sheet. His yellowed, sunken features were turned slightly towards the door. His thin mouth hung open. But when Huy bent over him, lifting the cold collection of bones that made up his hand, he stirred and opened his eyes. “Huy,” he whispered. “My physician has gone to mix me more poppy. I can eat only pap, but I drink milk and fruit juices. Thothmes and Nasha will begin to take turns sitting with me through the nights. Shall I tell them I have three more months of life? I’m so glad Thothmes has Ishat. I wish Nasha had someone to love her. I wish Anuket—”

“Hush, Lord,” Huy said quickly. “Have no fears for Anuket. Her husband adores her.”

Nakht gasped, and it took Huy a moment to recognize the sound as the man’s effort to chuckle. “I have more fears for Amunnefer,” Nakht managed. “I have done my best for all of them. I have memorized every answer to the questions the gods of the underworld will put to me so that I may pass in safety to my wife. Every answer, Huy. It has taken me ten years.” The fingers resting in Huy’s own, lighter than feathers, twitched suddenly in agitation. “I did not do right by you, my second son …”

Huy placed his other palm gently against Nakht’s forehead. “You did do right by me,” he murmured, his mouth close to Nakht’s ear. “Your decisions that night were correct, for my life since has followed a privileged path. We have said all this before, my father. Be at peace.”

There was a movement behind him and Huy looked back to see Nakht’s physician step forward holding a cup.

“Ramose will come soon and pray for me.” Nakht’s voice was now less than a wisp of sound. “Go back to Hut-herib, Huy. Keep loving Thothmes. Make offerings at my tomb when the Beautiful Feast of the Valley comes around each year.” He fell silent and his eyes closed.

Huy straightened. At once the servant and the physician hurried to the couch and Huy left, closing the door quietly behind him and taking deep breaths of the warm draft of air flowing along the passage. It was time to go home.

At the foot of the ramp, he hugged Thothmes fiercely, kissed a sleepy, solemn Nasha, and pressed his lips against Ishat’s warm temple, deliberately drawing into his body the blend of myrrh, cassia, and henna flowers that made up her distinctive perfume. She clung to him briefly, her grief expressed in every taut muscle pressed against him, then she let him go. “Write to us,” she said thickly, and as he met her eyes, the message was clear: Do not send me personal letters, for I could not bear it. Let me force a gap between us so that I may learn contentment.

“Thank you, old friend, for your hospitality,” he said to Thothmes. “Make my apologies to Anuket and her husband.”

“They’ve gone,” Nasha told him. “They didn’t even bother with food. I shan’t miss her, my own sister, and I don’t think you will either, will you, Huy?”

Huy did not reply. Walking up the ramp of his barge to where Thothhotep stood waiting, he glanced along to the servants’ boat. Anhur had already slipped its mooring. Huy signalled to his captain. The oars were run out and slowly the barge left Nakht’s watersteps, seeking the north-flowing current. The trio left on the steps raised their arms in farewell. Soon, too soon, they shrank, and then the river caught the barge and bore it ponderously around a bend.

Nothing was said until Iunu itself had been left behind. Then Thothhotep stirred. “Two scrolls were delivered for you late last night, Master. Shall I read them to you?”

Startled, Huy glanced at her. He had been thinking of the empty house awaiting him, the rooms devoid of Ishat’s voice, the passages empty of her quick footsteps and the swirl of her linen, the loneliness of waking from the afternoon sleep and remembering that she would not be there to take his arm and walk in the garden.

“They were sent on from Hut-herib?”

“Yes. Amunmose has inked his name on them to let me know that they did come to the house.”

Amunmose,
Huy thought, bewildered for a moment.
Oh, of course. My new under steward. Gods, I feel as though I’ve been away for hentis!

He left the rail. “Let’s sit under the awning,” he suggested. “You read them and tell me what they say, Thothhotep. I’m in no mood to deal with correspondence.”

She shot him a sympathetic glance, opened the drawstring of her leather pouch, and withdrew the scrolls as she lowered herself cross-legged beside him on the cushions. He watched her as she broke the seals and scanned first one letter and then the other, a tiny frown of concentration between her dark brows, her bottom lip caught in white teeth.
Shall we become friends, Thothhotep,
he wondered,
or shall we remain master and scribe?