The King's Man (11 page)

Tetiankh returned promptly, and as Huy downed the opium, he found himself hoping that Yuya would allow her to come to him for a Seeing. He wanted a glimpse into her future.

4

BEFORE HUY HAD EVEN OPENED HIS EYES
the following morning, he could sense a change beyond the walls of his apartment. An air of muted excitement drifted into his bedchamber. When Tetiankh placed the tray of water, fruit, and bread on the table beside the couch and went to raise the hanging on the window, Huy saw that it was still early. The sky was only just beginning to flush pink with the dawn.

“I apologize for rousing you at this time, Master,” Tetiankh said, “but you are required to present yourself at His Majesty’s apartments as soon as you are ready. Chief Steward Nubti respectfully asks that you take no more than two hours for your feeding and ablutions.”

Huy sat up, reaching for the vial of poppy beside the food and welcoming the familiar taste of its bitterness. “I suppose the King will be greeting his uncle informally before the public celebration of the Prince’s return. What are the servants saying about it, Tetiankh?” He drank the water and began to pull the warm bread apart without much appetite. The poppy had set up a dull ache in his stomach, but he forced himself to eat, knowing that he needed sustenance against the demands of what would surely be an exhausting day.
Like all the others since I left Hut-herib
, he reflected, and pushed the invitation to self-pity away.

Tetiankh was opening Huy’s tiring chests, methodically setting out linen and jewels. “They are curious, of course. Some of them remember the Prince before his exile. Many are behaving like good servants, refusing to gossip, but others whisper that the King has put himself in danger by allowing a contender for the Horus Throne to return to Egypt.” He straightened, frowning down at the pair of ornately decorated sandals in his grasp. “I spoke briefly with Pa-shed yesterday. He’s looking forward to taking up his old position as chief steward to the Prince, who had already sent a formal request on the matter to His Majesty. It seemed to Pa-shed and also to me that all speculation is vain at present anyway. Master, if you wear these sandals you’ll need the moonstone earrings and plenty of gold on your wrists to offset their simplicity.”

Huy told him to choose whatever he felt would be appropriate, and forced himself to swallow a fresh date. Its sweetness revolted him.

By the time he returned to his bedchamber from the crowded bathhouse with Tetiankh, his stomach had ceased to burn and his head was clear. Absently he gazed at his reflection in the small copper mirror propped behind the litter on his cosmetics table while the body servant kohled his eyes and combed and braided his oiled hair. His last encounter with Prince Amunhotep had been rife with his, Huy’s, misery and guilt over failing to expose the younger Prince Thothmes’ sphinx dream as a blatant fabrication designed to advance his wholly spurious claim to the throne. Prince Amunhotep had been far more gentle with Huy than he deserved. Those negative emotions came back to Huy as Tetiankh fastened his thick rope of hair with a narrow strip of leather and a golden frog ornament.

“The gold-bordered kilt, I think, Master, and the green turquoise circlet for your head.” Huy, fighting the vision of his cowardly self, bit back an impatient retort. Tetiankh’s deft hands dressed him, put on him his jewellery and his sandals, pressed perfumed oil onto his neck, arms, and chest, and Huy was assailed by a sudden and infantile desire to get back onto his couch and bury himself in his sheet.

“Tell Paneb to pick up his palette and meet me in the passage,” he said curtly. Inhaling the comforting scent of the lotus now rising from his body, he followed Tetiankh out of the room that was fast becoming his sanctuary.

He greeted his new scribe, who bowed in response. Paneb was wearing a simple but obviously costly linen kilt. A red ribbon matching the sweret bead hanging on his breast went around his forehead. His only nod to his aristocratic roots was the freshly dried orange henna on his palms and simple silver likenesses of Thoth hanging from each earlobe. Silver was worth a great deal more than gold. Huy approved of his new scribe’s restraint, and his mood lightened. Perti and two soldiers waited to form an escort. Gesturing at them, Huy set off to walk to the King’s apartments.

Nubti admitted Huy and Paneb into a quiet room. Huy had expected to face the Prince amid a crowd of courtiers, but only the King, Mutemwia, and a strange man sat around a table laden with sweetmeats and goblets. A few white and blue–liveried servants stood apart but watchful, Pa-shed among them. He was joined by Nubti. Huy extended his arms in an obeisance to the King while behind him Paneb knelt to perform a full prostration. Amunhotep waved Huy forward.

“Get up, Paneb!” he ordered. “I heard that Uncle Huy had hired you. A good choice, the Queen my Mother says. Uncle Huy, you must remember Uncle Amunhotep.” He laughed, a short spurt of boyish hilarity that nevertheless held a note of strain to Huy’s ears as he approached the stranger.

The man rose and turned, and suddenly Huy found himself staring into a face he recognized, older, seamed and darkened, framed by a fall of sleek black hair. It was indeed the Prince. Huy bowed profoundly.

“It’s very good to see you again, Great Seer,” the Prince said, his voice sending waves of both unease and gladness through Huy—unease at the memory of their last confrontation and gladness because his prediction regarding the lifespan of the Prince’s usurping brother had been proved true. “The letter you sent recalling me home was worded in exactly the same way as it appeared in the vision you gave me all those years ago. You are indeed blessed by the gods!”

“Uncle Huy can easily predict anyone’s future,” the King put in. “Sit here beside me,” he ordered Huy. “Nubti, have wine poured for Uncle Huy, and I should like some more.”

As Huy took the chair Amunhotep indicated, his eyes briefly met Mutemwia’s. She appeared to be at ease. Her small hands rested in her lap, the beringed fingers loosely interlaced. Her gold-shod feet peeped out from under a filmy, pure white sheath. She had crossed them at the ankles. Yet Huy, in the moment before he sank onto the chair, sensed her tension. She moved her head once, a swift admission to him that all was not well. Behind him Huy heard his scribe sink unobtrusively to the matting on the floor. Huy had received permission to speak now that the Prince had addressed him directly. He smiled across at the man’s clear gaze as a servant soundlessly placed a cup brimming with wine into his hand and moved on to refill the King’s.

“I’m very happy to see you safely returned to this blessed country, Prince,” he said. “Your enforced stay in Mitanni was long.”

“It was, and much of the time I was homesick in spite of Artatama’s generosity to me. I’ve done my best to ensure excellent relations between Mitanni and Egypt that I hope will continue into the future.”

“If our vassal King is as loyal to Egypt as Yey’s family has been, we’ll have nothing to worry about,” the King broke in. “Vizier Ptahmose oversees the Office of Foreign Affairs. He tells me that communications from Mitanni are regular and respectful and the annual tribute is always paid promptly.”

The Prince could have told his royal nephew that, given where he had just arrived from, he was perfectly aware of the state of Mitanni’s relations with Egypt. Huy saw the short reminder in the man’s eyes and quick intake of breath before he chose not to give it voice.

“That’s very good, Majesty,” he replied instead. “The purple gold the Mitanni smiths forge is alone worth Egypt’s effort to keep Artatama and his family contented.”

“I don’t suppose you managed to discover the secret of its making. It would have been a triumph for Egypt, not to mention the rest of the world, if you’d brought it home with you.” Amunhotep had swallowed a large gulp of wine. He set his cup back on the table with an unsteady hand and Huy realized that he was quite drunk. The Prince obviously knew it too.

“Artatama gave me complete freedom in everything but the smithies, Majesty,” he answered gently. “I did not betray his trust in me, although of course it occurred to me that the secret of purple gold would be a mighty gift to bring home to you. It would have been foolish to endanger the peace our ancestors created between our two countries. I have prepared a full report on all aspects of Mitanni society and government for you. My scribe Ka-set has already placed it in Ptahmose’s office.”

“And your gifts of purple gold to both of us are truly appreciated,” Mutemwia said. “Oh, my dear old friend! It’s wonderful to see you and hear you and know that I may visit you in your old apartments whenever I wish, as I used to do when the King was a baby! Do you remember how he would chuckle and smile up at you as you cradled him in your arms?”
Very good, Mutemwia
, Huy thought.
Very good indeed
.

The Prince also recognized the ploy. Leaning towards the King, he spoke with reverence. “I loved you as a baby and I love you as my King, Nephew Amunhotep,” he said gently. “I will never do anything to harm you. I know what it’s like to live in the shadow of death at the hands of those one loved and trusted. Something inside me was destroyed when my father and brother turned against me. You must trust me when I tell you that I have no wish to put on the shackles of kingship, imprisoned by protocol and carrying the weight of Egypt’s health, both secular and religious, on my shoulders. I have lived in freedom for the last twelve years. I only want to stay in the palace until you and I become friends. Then, with your blessing, I’ll retire to my estates at Ta-she, find a capable Egyptian wife, and spend the remainder of my days boating on the lake and watching my grapevines flourish.”

Huy, watching the King, whose attention had become riveted on his uncle’s face, saw the wine-flushed young features gradually loosen.

“I didn’t intend to hear my fear expressed aloud by you, Uncle,” he rasped. Then, coughing, he went on more clearly. “Still, the Queen my Mother warns me that kings should not place their trust blindly. I want to trust you. I want to be your friend. But for now you will be guarded by my soldiers, not yours. And I may ask the Seer to hold your hand as he did once before.”

“Wise decisions,” the Prince responded. “I would make them myself if our positions were reversed. Now please dismiss me, Majesty. I want to be bathed and shaved before the feast you are so kindly giving me tonight, and I’m eager to re-enter my old apartments.”

Amunhotep nodded, his cheeks now pale. Huy wondered if he was about to vomit out the wine he had consumed so rapidly. The Prince rose and Huy did also, bowing to him as he backed to the double doors with Pa-shed already holding them open for him. When he had gone, the King looked up at Huy.

“I really want to be happy to see him,” he said. “I did not behave towards him as a King should, or even an ordinary member of his family. I’m very sorry.”

“I know. Dismiss me also, Majesty. You need to sleep again.”

But Amunhotep gripped his kilt. “You love me, don’t you, Uncle Huy? You would never hurt me, would you?”

Huy knelt beside the King’s chair and put his arm around shoulders that felt suddenly frail and vulnerable to his touch. “You became the child I was never privileged to father,” he murmured so that the motionless servants could not hear. “I have loved you ever since you began to spend the months of the Inundation with me on my estate. I vow that I will never harm you or knowingly allow anyone else to harm you. Be happy to see the Prince. Treat him tonight with the esteem he deserves.”

Amunhotep let go of the linen and Huy rose, bowed deeply, and walked away, Paneb at his heels. By the time he entered his own domain, his body was tense with the need for poppy. He ignored the throb. “Paneb, find Amunmose and collect any letters that have come for me,” he said. “I might as well deal with them before the noon meal.”

To his delight, there were scrolls from both Thothhotep and the steward Merenra, now caring for his estate outside Hut-herib. Merenra had little to say beyond assuring Huy that all was safe and peaceful in his house and garden and he was making sure that the domestic servants kept everything in order in case their master should decide to visit his home. Asking Paneb to make sure that Merenra was receiving enough gold to maintain his arouras and feed his staff, he broke the unadorned wax seal on Thothhotep’s letter. “To the Great Seer Huy, my Master, greetings,” it began, and Huy, seeing the woman’s neat, familiar script fill the roll of papyrus, felt a stab of homesickness. He read quickly. Anhur, dear Anhur, who had guarded Huy as a boy on one of his journeys to Thoth’s temple at Iunu and had later come to the estate to captain Huy’s soldiers, was becoming increasingly debilitated, his breathing more laboured in spite of the medicines Thothhotep purchased for him. She thanked Huy for providing the gold that allowed them to live in relative luxury and spoke briefly of the pleasure of living beside the river in Nekheb, the town of her birth, but at the end anxiety for her husband and her longing for Huy and the satisfaction of her life as his scribe broke through. “Anhur must now sleep sitting upright and I rest on a pallet beside our couch,” she said, her voice rising clearly to Huy from the black hieroglyphs. “I give him the poppy your generosity has provided so that he can forget his lungs for a few precious hours. When he is able to talk, his words are all of his life with you, our life with you, and a powerful nostalgia for the past. He often begins his statements with the old oath ‘As I love life and hate death.’ He will not enter the Judgment Hall easily. We miss you very much, and I envy the person who now walks behind you in my place. Written by my own hand, Thothhotep, scribe. Dated this fourth day of the month of Phamenoth, Year One of the King.”