Authors: Pauline Gedge
“I am here only to accompany Her Majesty,” he said. “She understands your increased security, Great Seer, and knows that in any case she is perfectly safe beneath your roof.” Huy nodded, Perti took up his position beside the Commander, and Huy opened the door. He did not knock.
His soldiers were stationed to each side of the figure sitting behind the desk, a respectful but watchful distance away from her. A dun-coloured cloak had been flung over the back of a second chair in front. The desk itself held a small pile of scrolls. Two alabaster lamps burned steadily beside them, casting a peaceful glow into the room that encompassed not only the surface of the desk but the woman who perched with knees to her chin under the voluminous white linen gown that covered her from neck to ankles. Her arms were folded across her knees. A pair of tiny leather sandals had been tossed under the desk. She did not stir as Huy came forward and halted, astonished. He and Paneb prostrated themselves. As he knelt, Huy saw a dark, ungainly shape melt into the shadows lurking in one of the far corners. The hyena. He closed his eyes and pressed his nose against the tiles. There was a long period of silence. Slowly the mixed perfume of lotus, narcissus, and henna in satke oil began to tickle Huy’s nostrils. One of the lamps sputtered. Then she sighed.
“Dismiss your guards, Huy,” she said. She had not given him permission to rise. Craning his head to one side, he gave the order. The two men reverenced her and strode past Huy and Paneb, both still embarrassingly supine, and the door closed quietly behind them.
There was another silence, this one pregnant with uneasy expectancy. Huy heard a creak and rustle as she left the chair, and when she spoke again he realized that she was directly above him. “Get up, both of you,” she ordered. “Paneb, you may make notes, but afterwards the scroll is mine.” Huy regained his feet and at once she raised her face to him. “You agreed to come to me first when you returned from Mennofer. You did not do so. The King is thoroughly drunk and Tiye has shut herself up in the nursery with her little Prince and screams death to anyone who tries to reason with her. Apparently you have turned all the nursery staff into assassins. I have been obliged to take her place during the morning audiences and make the rounds of the administrative offices. I am not pleased. If you had related the vision to me, we might have avoided these consequences.”
With a rush of affection, Huy scrutinized the delicate features. Scoured of paint, the fans of lines at her temples and running from her nostrils to either side of her mouth were clearly visible. The long cap of gleaming black hair was slivered through with streaks of grey. But the small, graceful hands and lithe movements of her body belied her age.
“Majesty, I could not in good conscience keep my word to you,” Huy answered. “The things I saw belonged directly to the King and the Empress.”
“And not to Egypt? The deformed King and his heresy will do more harm to this beloved country than any transgression of yours.”
“You’ve read the scroll.”
“Of course. Both of them.” She gathered up the folds of her gown and, pacing back to the desk, settled herself on the chair behind it. At once her heels sought the edge of the chair. Tugging the capacious linen down over her shins, she rested both outstretched arms on her hidden knees, and at the gesture Huy found himself back in the office of his home at Hut-herib with her little son asleep upstairs in the care of Royal Nurse Heqarneheh and he and she deep in an intimate conversation that might continue for hours as the night waxed and then gradually waned towards the dawn. Neither she nor Egypt’s Horus-in-the-Nest liked to take to their couches early, he remembered. Prince Amunhotep required story after story, and Huy had often met his mother wandering through the house or in the garden when everyone else in the household was asleep. He and she had developed a close bond. Huy had never overstepped the gulf of blood and station between them, but they had come to trust and respect one another. Mutemwia’s approach to chairs in the privacy of Huy’s home had been decidedly informal, and with a pang of homesickness for the past and genuine love for this royal woman Huy watched her succumb to an old habit. She waved him down into the opposite chair.
“Amunhotep and I have always been close, and the link between us became even stronger during my years as his Regent,” she continued. “He confides everything in me eventually. He confides in Tiye also, but if he needs advice he can trust he comes to me. He doesn’t need to seek advice from you, Huy. He made you mer kat. He knows that you make excellent decisions and carry them out and thus Egypt prospers without the necessity for him to do anything more than stand between the gods and the people. Yes, he’s lazy and I’m sorry for it, but it does make him easy to control.” She grimaced. “At least, that was true until you neglected your duties and left for Mennofer.” Huy began to protest, but she held up a warning hand. “Tiye took over your responsibilities. You knew she would, didn’t you? The scrolls sent north to you merely let you know what decisions she had taken. Not one refutation came back from you. Our administrators were compelled to do her bidding whether they agreed with her policies or not.”
“Majesty, you know why I had to leave Weset,” Huy protested, “and while I was away I read every letter. There was nothing to refute. Tiye and I used to work together regularly in the ministries. Her judgments were sound.”
“That’s not the point. You must take control of Egypt again, before Tiye has completely won the loyalties of the governors and administrators. A Queen in charge of the country sets a dangerous precedent. We need you, Huy, Amunhotep and I, not only to take up Egypt’s reins again but also to make a barrier between Tiye and the power she craves.” She indicated the scrolls on the desk. “This morning, after a long conversation with the King, I had the correspondence of the day brought to me. There it is. I’ve read it. Chief Architect Kha needs your advice on the west bank, at the site of the new palace. Hori and Suti need you to settle an argument between them regarding their work at Ipet-isut. They’re extremely talented, but foolishly they divided their responsibilities into the west side and the east side of Amun’s temple. Promotions are long overdue within the Semenu family. I think it would be wise to make Sobekhmose’s son Sobekhotep Overseer of the Treasury now that Sobekhmose is Overseer of the Works of Upper and Lower Egypt. You gave Sobekhmose the position yourself, Huy. Do you remember? Sobekhotep is eager to oversee the Treasury, having learned from his father, but first he asks that you allow him to travel to Rethennu and assess the potential of the turquoise mines we own there. I suggest that your nephew Amunhotep-Huy be given the task of planning and overseeing a new mortuary for the sacred Apis bulls. His competence in directing the repairs and additions to Ptah’s temple in Mennofer was exemplary. Give the Viziership to Aper-el. Oh, and you should give some thought to the building of more granaries—the crops continue to be more abundant than we have seen in several seasons. Shall I go on?”
“No, Majesty, and you’re right, I have been negligent in my duties and allowed personal concerns to come before my larger responsibilities.” The words were correct, but behind them was a flood of desperation. Mutemwia was eyeing him steadily, her chin resting on the forearms still folded loosely across her linen-swathed knees.
“The Empress must not become mer kat,” she said. “The weaknesses in my son’s character are becoming distressingly obvious. He cannot resist the requests of his women. Jewellery and other fripperies don’t matter—the careless granting of sincecures does. He and Tiye love each other, but Tiye is already becoming adept at manipulating his defects. Perhaps we should have abandoned plans for the marriage after the first vision, in which you saw her with the malformed King whom Anubis has now identified for us as her son.”
Huy’s shoulders hunched. “At the time, we spoke of the possibility of altering the future, changing fate. Atum had appeared to choose Tiye for Amunhotep.” He glanced at Paneb, but the scribe was writing calmly, head down over the papyrus.
“Had he?” Mutemwia uncurled. One by one her legs straightened, and she sat back, shook out the drape of her gown, tucked both bare feet under the chair, and crossed her arms. “What if Anubis was showing you what would happen if we designated Tiye as Queen, not what her future would be if we did not?”
“I forced the union,” Huy said slowly. “I elected to ignore the portion of the vision I didn’t like because I was full of the arrogance of my new power. I was eager to test it. A foreign commoner as Queen? Atum had sanctioned the bond, unlikely though it was. You were dismayed, but out of reverence for the god and trust in me you agreed to it.” His fingers met and clenched. “The result will be a disaster for Egypt’s future. With the birth of Prince Amunhotep the seed of that disaster was sown. It’s up to me to put everything right. Isfet must not be allowed to spread and enfeeble Ma’at because of me.”
Mutemwia pursed her lips. “A terrible word, Isfet. Whatever you do, you’re damned, aren’t you, my Huy? Your dilemma is perfectly clear to me. But of course you will not murder my grandson. Such ruthlessness is beyond your nature, no matter how fully the deed occupies your mind. Do you really think that the fate of the entire country will result from your conceit? That belief is unmitigated conceit itself.”
The hyena was staring at him. Huy could feel its unwavering regard as an unclean caress between his naked shoulder blades. “Majesty, I will tell you how I know that I am not tormented by conceit but accountability,” he said hoarsely, rising from the chair in one stiff movement and walking around it, his hands reaching for the support of its back. “I am being haunted. For some time I saw the animal only occasionally, but now it is with me night and day …” Recklessly, no longer caring how he sounded, he spoke of the three hyenas, one fleshly, one belonging in the Beautiful West, and now the third plaguing him, the words tumbling into the room. It was both a relief and an agony to rid himself of the burden he had carried for so long,
and will continue to carry
, he thought bleakly under the torrent of his voice. His gaze swept from door to desk to the dusky height of the painted ceiling and back again. He noted subconsciously that she had unfolded her arms and placed them along the polished arms of her chair. Lost in the painful vortex, he saw Paneb as if from a great distance, a man he did not recognize sitting on the black and white tiled floor and performing some inexplicable task.
The frogs are a part of it too
, his rational self said from the bottom of some inner well where sense and control had taken shelter.
I must tell it all
. He went on without volition, wanting to stop but unable to do so until he had purged himself and there was nothing left to say. His mouth seemed to close of its own accord. He stumbled, caught himself as Paneb reached across and pressed a palm against his outer thigh to balance him, and awkwardly sat down. His heart was pounding. The muscles of his legs were quaking.
At that moment there was a knock on the door. Huy tried and failed to call out, and it was Mutemwia who sharply replied. Paroi and a kitchen servant entered, and seeing the Queen, Paroi bowed as respectfully as he could with the loaded tray he was carrying. “There is hot garlic and chickpea soup and bread from this morning,” he said as he unloaded the contents of the tray onto the desk. “There are also slices of ox liver in dilled cabbage, dried figs, and as you can see, Master, the wine jar is unopened. Kenofer fetched the water in the jug himself. That’s why I have taken so long.” He cast a keen glance at Huy as he removed the wax plug from the neck of the wine jar and picked up the empty tray. The kitchen servant was placing a large bowl of water and a stack of folded linen cloths beside the dishes. Huy took one, dipped it in the water, and wiped his face and neck.
“Thank you, Paroi,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “Please make sure that the Commander is fed.” He dismissed Paroi before the under steward could ask the obvious question hovering on his tongue. The two servants backed down the room and the door closed behind them. Mutemwia slid upright and stood, folded back her sleeves, and, pouring a cup of wine, came around the desk and wrapped Huy’s hands around it, lifting it to his mouth. The gentle service was a singular honour. Her touch was warm and the wine refreshing. While he sipped, Mutemwia returned to her chair and, perching on its edge, began to spoon up the soup.
“It’s a long walk to your house from the palace,” she said. “I’m hungry, and I expect Wesersatet is also.” Huy waited, the thudding in his chest and the tremors in his legs gradually decreasing. Presently she looked across at him. “The bau of Anubis can be messengers or demons. You assume that the thing afflicting you is one of the Khatyu, but what if the hyena is Habyu instead, bringing you a message you need to understand? As for the frogs, to see them in a nightmare is very puzzling. They delight us because they represent resurrection, and we venerate them because they belong to the First Time, before Atum created the world. This is excellent soup.” Putting down her spoon, she dabbed her mouth with a piece of linen and surveyed the dish of liver and cabbage. “You know all this, Huy,” she went on. “You have been with Imhotep in the Beautiful West. You speak with Anubis every time you perform a Seeing. Ever since you were twelve years old, you have lived in two worlds, the present and the future, where time does not yet exist. You have forgotten your power and uniqueness, and fear and confusion rule you.” Selecting another spoon, she scooped up a quantity of liver and cabbage and ate it, chewing thoughtfully. “Why was Imhotep sitting reading under the blessed Ished Tree with a hyena tamed and docile beside him?” she wondered. “I can’t help you, my dear old friend, not in matters of the gods that are beyond my comprehension, and I suspect beyond the comprehension of any High Priest or even a Master of Mysteries. All I can do is support and encourage you in your temporal duties as mer kat. Are you feeling better? Good. Then finish your wine and let me eat this meal.”
Cradling his cup, Huy watched her delicate movements. Neither the spoon nor her mouth were ever too full. She allowed no sound, not even the clink of silver utensil against golden platter. She did not lean over the food. She used each linen napkin only once, and when she had finished, she dabbled her fingers in the bowl of water, glanced about for a moment and remembered that there was no servant to dry them, picked up the last spotless linen, dried them herself, and rose. “I must leave before Ra is born. I would prefer that neither Tiye nor Amunhotep learns of this visit. Amunhotep intends to summon you early. I have already told him that you will be sitting in audience instead of Tiye from now on. Incidentally, one of those scrolls contains a list of courtiers requiring a Seeing from you. Find your courage again, Great Seer. Let the contents of the Book of Thoth go back to gathering dust.”