Seer of Egypt (61 page)

There was a postscript added by Amunhotep himself:

Letting the scroll roll up, Huy slowly clasped his hands together and placed them on the desk.
So this is what the god has been preparing me for,
he thought deliberately.
This will be my task, to stand behind our young King, even as his mother does, and through him chart the course Atum has planned for this, his blessed country. This is why I came back from the dead. This is why I have been taught to wield the scrying gift. Both Methen and Ra’s High Priest at Iunu predicted this power for me when I was still at school. Amunhotep loves me. Mutemwia trusts me. Atum has laid the weight of these two responsibilities on my shoulders in the faith that I will not fail him. King’s Personal Scribe. King’s personal Seer. The fate of commoners will no longer concern me, by Mutemwia’s express wish. I know the decision to bar me from all but those she chooses was hers alone. So was the resolve to appoint Ramose as steward of the Aten shrine at Iunu even though as yet he’s too young to be active in that post. Thus she builds a channel along which information regarding all activity surrounding the worship of the Aten, at least in Iunu, will flow to her from a reliable messenger. How very astute she is, this woman with the body of a young girl and the intellect of a sage! I admire her wholeheartedly.

All at once the full significance of Amunhotep’s letter burst upon him, and he began to both laugh hysterically and cry, cradling himself and rocking back and forth on the chair. “Find Merenra and order him to start packing up this house,” he said aloud to the empty room. “Find Thothhotep and dictate a letter to Prince Amunhotep in Mitanni. You won’t have to compose it afresh, though, will you, Huy son of Hapu? No—Amunhotep son of Hapu. It’s Amunhotep now. The words of that scroll already exist in the record of your vision for the Prince, given twelve years ago. You must dictate letters of congratulation to Heby and your nephews also. So much to do!”

Hearing the near-madness in his tones, he shut his mouth abruptly and rose. His legs were trembling.
How many members of my staff will want to retire?
he thought suddenly.
Who will choose to age quietly here rather than enter the maelstrom of court life? How will I find new servants I can trust?
The prospect sobered him at once
. I shall miss my life here, miss it very much. My destiny is about to be fulfilled, but all at once I am afraid. A dose of poppy will take away the fear.
He sighed and, picking up the roll of papyrus, went out.

For several days after the Royal Herald’s surprising appearance at his door, he roamed the town and its environs. His litter-bearers took him to his parents’ house, still empty, the small, untended terrace of soil around the pond already becoming choked with clover and dock leaves, the unwatered grass yellowing. He stood in the tiny room where he had slept as a child, where his mother had tended him after his return from the House of the Dead, where Ishat had come creeping through the window to tease him and keep him company in defiance of her mother’s fear of him. Leaves from the acacia hedge had blown in to lie heaped in the corners. A spider’s web hung trembling from the ceiling.
Neither Heby nor Heby’s two sons will have any use for the place
, Huy reflected as he walked back out into the sunshine,
and by Atum’s decree I will remain as barren as a woman with a diseased womb. I must send a message to Ker, tell him to place the family of one of his stewards here or even one of his field foremen. I can’t bear to think of the walls gradually falling into decay, the pond drying up, wild animals building their own peculiar nests in what was once a clean and happy home.

He wandered through the narrow streets of Hut-herib itself, crossing the dikes made to raise those coming and going above the level of the flood water during the Inundation, inhaling the sour odour of the mud below. He was often recognized by citizens, who bowed to him and made way respectfully for him to pass. He was hardly aware of them. Here in the marketplace he had first seen Thothhotep, sitting muffled in linen, her palette by her hip, and had taken her for a man. The memory pained him. It reminded him that he had come here to seek a replacement for Ishat, that he had been struggling against an entirely unjustified jealousy and resentment towards Thothmes for wanting to take her away, that he had shrunk from being left alone. Quickly he made his way to Khenti-kheti’s shrine.

Methen was in the outer court, bending to put on his sandals before leaving the precincts, when Huy’s shadow fell across him. His face broke into a smile as he straightened and threw his arms around Huy. “I’ve been hearing rumours,” he said as together they moved the short distance towards the two rooms of his cell. “My scribe met your under steward at the market. I presume that you gave your servants permission to speak of your summons to Mennofer?”

“I did.” Huy stood aside for Methen to precede him.
You are aging also, dear friend,
he thought with a pang.
You, Merenra, Anhur, even Ishat, all of you succumbing to the terrible ravages of time.
He took the stool by the table. Methen peered into the jug on its surface before taking two cups from a shelf, pouring out beer, and settling into the chair. “My under steward Amunmose loves to talk,” Huy said. “I’ve been meandering around the town for the last couple of days, saying goodbye to the last fifty years of my life. I left this visit until the last. I didn’t want to say goodbye to you.”

“But why should you?” Methen looked startled. “Mennofer’s only two days’ sailing away. We’ll certainly be back and forth.”

Huy swallowed a mouthful of beer. “It’s more than the physical distance.” He licked his lips. “I sense that this parting from you and my estate and Hut-herib will be as sharp as the slash of a disembowelling knife in the House of the Dead.”

Methen’s gaze narrowed. “Your intuition comes from the god, do you think? Your destiny is about to enter a new chapter, perhaps the final one, the culmination of every test, every trial you’ve endured, and you’re afraid?” He leaned over the table, pushing his cup aside. “Egypt is in your hands, Huy, don’t you realize that? Queen Mutemwia trusts you. Amunhotep loves you. This is what Atum in his ruthless wisdom had planned for you from the time you stood before Imhotep in the Beautiful West and agreed to read the Book of Thoth! This is why the god breathed life back into your lifeless corpse all those years ago! You and the Book and the King are all linked. Your fates will converge into the one moment Atum desires.”

“His ruthless wisdom,” Huy repeated. “Yes, I do realize that I am being summoned to place my hand over the hand of the King on Egypt’s rudder. Is it any wonder that I am clinging to the familiar?” He gave the priest a twisted smile. “I have no idea who Amunhotep’s ministers are or what they do. I will have to learn, and everything will be strange.” Impulsively he reached across and took Methen’s hand. “Come with me,” he begged. “I’ll need my own priest, someone to approach the gods on my behalf, to advise me in spiritual matters, to be an incorruptible link with the past. You know everything about me. Be my guide, Methen!”

The High Priest’s expression had become grave. “We are the closest of friends, Huy, but the time when you needed any advice but that of Anubis and the god is long gone. Atum is the only guide you need. I would not dare to stand between the god and you.” Placing his other hand over Huy’s, enfolding it in his warmth, he squeezed it and let it go. “Write to me as you used to do when you were a student at Iunu. I will always reply. Do you remember the day when you came to make an offering of some toy or other to Khenti-kheti because it was the anniversary of your Naming Day and you were about to be sent away to school?” Huy nodded. “I told you not to fear the unknown, that you would be privileged to acquire the great gift Thoth gave to us, the ability to read and write. Forgive me if I repeat that admonition. Approach the unknown as a challenge and your position in the King’s counsel as an honour. How innocent this anxiety of yours is! Now we will drink our beer and enjoy each other’s company as we always have.”

He’s right,
Huy thought as he shrugged before lifting his cup.
He’s the only person to whom I could express this fear, the fear of a child, and know that he does not secretly despise me for it.

“My litter-bearers have been trailing after me all day,” he said. “I must go. Embrace me, old friend. Pray for me often.”

Once more Methen’s long arms went around him. “May the soles of your feet be firm, Huy son of Hapu,” he said, using the ancient blessing given before a journey. “I shall expect a letter from you as soon as you are settled into your new quarters.”

On the following day he made the visit to Mery-neith, the Mayor of Hut-herib, that he had been deliberately putting off. It was Mery-neith, on the instructions of the Osiris-King Amunhotep the Second, the present ruler’s grandfather, who had arranged for Huy and Ishat to take over the estate. “I am giving the care of my parents’ house into the hands of my uncle Ker, who will install one of his workers there,” Huy told the man. “If you could make sure that the property is being kept up …”

Mery-neith nodded vigorously. “Of course I will. I buy perfumes for my wife and daughters from your uncle, so the task will be easy. You do not wish to transfer the deed to your brother, or perhaps offer the house for sale? It does not return to the throne as khato. Your uncle gave it to your father. Now, what of your estate? It also belongs entirely to you.”

“I can’t let either of them go just yet,” Huy admitted. “I’ll keep the estate for somewhere to stay when I return home.”
Why, so it has become,
he thought with surprise.
My little jewel of an estate, the dingy, dusty town, the familiar demarcations of river and tributary, the odours and sounds of this part of the Delta—all of it has truly become my home. I have taken it comfortably for granted until now, when I must leave it.

“Thank you, Mery-neith,” he finished. “I regret that we have seen so little of each other over the years.”

Mery-neith bowed. “I also, Great One. May the gods preserve you in good health.”

There was nothing left to do but speak politely of inconsequential matters for a while, return to the estate, and give Merenra the final command to empty the house.

He approached his steward in private, giving Merenra the choice between going with him to Mennofer or staying to take care of the house and grounds. Relief flitted across the man’s face as Huy spoke. “I did not want to leave your employ, Master. If you had not given me the option of remaining here in my customary position, I would have followed you to the palace. But since you have decided to keep the estate, I will be happy to go on administrating it as always. I have enjoyed my charge since our first days together, but now my stomach often pains me and my back has weakened. I will let you know how much gold I will need to perform this lesser task. Thank you.”

Huy wanted to grasp his shoulder, kiss the solemn face, tell Merenra how much he would be missed, but the man would have been offended by a show of such informality. Huy merely nodded in understanding. “Is Amunmose ready to be promoted to chief steward?” he wanted to know. “I assume I’ll need to engage another under steward and probably more servants.”

“Amunmose has become fully capable of more responsibility,” Merenra replied. “He has learned to go about his work with his mouth closed more often than open. A stewardship within the confines of the palace will do him good. The pace of daily life there will be more brisk.”

“I suppose it will.” Huy dismissed him and went in search of Anab. His gardener was setting out bedding plants. He straightened slowly as Huy approached, shifting the balance from his club foot with unconscious ease.

“I know what you need to say to me, Master,” he began. “You gave me a garden to tend in spite of my lameness. You have allowed me to profit from the cornflower juices. But in the palace you will have no use for me. Will you please find me another master before you go?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Huy snapped, taken aback. “You either come with me or stay right where you are. I will not have you pottering about under someone else’s thumb! Which will it be?”

Anab squinted at him cautiously. “I have heard that the King has prepared apartments for you. The Overseers of the Royal Gardens will certainly not want to be bothered with me. You will have no garden of your own anymore. May I indeed stay here? You are keeping the estate?”