Authors: Pauline Gedge
The young man nodded his thanks, showering yet more dust onto the floor, went to a shelf, took down a cup, and poured, first laying his weapon carefully by the lintel. But he did not drink. He stood still, his gaze going from Huy to Amunhotep-Huy and back again without anxiety. Huy looked him over. He was undeniably striking, with a bronzed, lithe body and even features holding an open expression of calm anticipation.
“You are Captain Perti?” Huy said at length.
He’s little more than a boy
, he thought.
The last thing I want to do is waste my time worrying about whether or not he’s keeping order with my guards. What is Amunhotep-Huy thinking?
“Yes, Master.” There was confidence in the voice. “It is my privilege to command ten of His Majesty’s soldiers in the Division of Ra.”
“Indeed. And where are you from?”
“I was born at Het-nefer-Apu in the Anpur sepat.”
“Do drink your beer, Perti. If there’s as much grit in your throat as you’re leaving on my nephew’s floor, you must be extremely thirsty.”
The boy flashed a smile that lit up his face. Quickly he emptied the cup. Amunhotep-Huy indicated that he might fill it again. Perti shook his head with a word of thanks. His attention returned to Huy.
“What military action have you seen?” Huy pressed him.
Pride infused the answer. “When the Osiris-one King Thothmes went south to subdue the troglodytes of Kush, I marched with the division. I took five hands. His Majesty praised me and promoted me to Captain of Ten, and so I remain.”
“How old are you?”
A moment of hesitancy darkened the pleasant face. “I am sixteen, Master. I joined the army when I was twelve and fought the men of Kush at fourteen. My father is very poor.” He offered no other explanation for his early entry into Pharaoh’s fighting ranks. None was needed. A silence fell, broken only by Amunhotep-Huy’s loud breathing and a shouted order echoing across the empty parade ground from somewhere far beyond it.
Do I offer a post to this stripling?
Huy wondered.
Would my nephew recommend him to me for a personal reason having nothing to do with my need? Can Amunhotep-Huy be trusted in this matter?
“Perti, I need a captain for my household guard,” he said at length. “The King has given me permission to appoint whom I will, and my nephew the Scribe of Recruits has recommended you. Would you be willing to take up this post, and also allow me a window into your future?”
Now Perti looked startled. “I’m not sure, Master. Your request comes to me as a blow from the heavens. I will need time to consider it. As for examining my future, I live by every precept of Ma’at and consider myself blameless under her scrutiny. I would not fear your eyes.”
“Your speech is educated for a soldier,” Huy commented. “How so?”
Once more that appealing smile beamed out. “It’s no secret that I am ambitious, Master. Many superior officers in the divisions are noblemen. I am well aware that I can go no higher than my speech and manners dictate, therefore I listen to my betters and learn from them so that I may rise in the service of the King. I am a good soldier and my men love me because I am always concerned for their welfare. They expect rewards as I earn one promotion after another.”
“You are unusually frank!” Huy was intrigued.
Perti shrugged. “Ma’at is generous towards the man who tells the truth. Besides, I do not have a nature devious enough to remember many lies. I am young, but I have learned the value of a good night’s sleep.”
Huy understood at once. “Will you think about my offer?” he said.
Perti bowed and set his cup back on the table. “Certainly, Great Seer. You honour me. How many guards have you?”
“I have ten. Anhur was like you, a Captain of Ten. My guards fall over each other without direction now that he has gone.”
Perti’s eyes narrowed. “Forgive me for saying so, Master, but you need double that number in order to assure your safety within the palace. His Majesty allows a private guard of no more than twenty anyway. Every powerful official employs the full complement. It would be good for you to accept my ten soldiers along with me, if I choose to protect you and the commander of my division agrees to release them. I know them well, and they obey me willingly.”
I am beginning to see why
, Huy thought.
You know yourself and your men, and there seems to be no tentativeness or diffidence in you. What you say makes sense. If you bring men to me who already trust you, my worries will be fewer. Providing you yourself serve me with loyalty, of course
.
“I agree. Go away and make your choice, then I will See what’s in store for you,” he said. “Bring me word by sunset tomorrow. I need someone urgently and will not give you more time. You are dismissed.” The boy bowed himself to the doorway, retrieved his bow and arrows, and was gone. “You’ve made a curious selection for me, Amunhotep-Huy.” Huy rose and faced his nephew. “I hope Perti lives up to his name of ‘Mighty One.’”
“I’m the Scribe of Recruits, Uncle,” Amunhotep-Huy replied irritably. “I meet regularly with the Supreme Commander. Wesersatet has his eye on Perti and is only waiting for a few more years to go by before making him a Captain of Fifty. Snatch him and his men while you can. You won’t regret it. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No. And I thank you. Be sure and invite me to your wedding feast.” Amunhotep-Huy also stood. His attitude did not encourage an embrace. He bowed stiffly and Huy left him, stepping onto the unforgiving surface of the training ground with relief. Behind him he heard Amunhotep-Huy berating his servant. The litter-bearers were coming out of the shade, stretching and yawning, and Huy’s guards quietly took up their stations to either side as Huy climbed onto the litter’s cushions with relief. The prospect of a dose of poppy seemed more welcoming than usual.
The time of the afternoon sleep was almost over, but Huy retreated to his bedchamber, sent Tetiankh for the drug, and lay on his couch staring up at the busy ceiling with its dozens of stars surrounding Nut’s arching, elongated body. The faint scent of jasmine added to the depression that seized him. In spite of the thousands of people inhabiting the palace, he was alone. He needed to discuss his invitation to the young Perti with Anhur and Thothhotep. If he had been at home he would have aired the prospect with them, put his thoughts in order by expressing them aloud, listened to their opinions. Now there was no one. Impatiently he pushed the self-pity aside, together with a sudden inner picture of his green and quiet garden lying deserted under a bright noon sun.
This is my home now
, he told himself sternly.
Why do I bleat after Hut-herib like a hungry calf? I have known for years that my destiny lies with the Horus Throne, but now its fulfillment is beginning I can only look back over my shoulder. I hate this place
, he knew suddenly.
I hate its noise, its crowded corridors, its servants painted like aristocrats, and its nobles with their backs bent like servants. I will soon be familiar with its design and may perhaps find empty corners where I can enjoy a temporary peace, but I do not believe that my distaste for this god’s house will change
.
When Tetiankh returned, Huy drank his poppy, retrieved his palette from one of his chests, and tried to compose a letter to Anhur and Thothhotep, but his words were both stilted and hesitant. He could not speak to them as though they were present, both because he knew that his letters would be opened and resealed before being carried south and because he could imagine their concern for him if he wrote the truth.
I must have a scribe and a herald who will have no conscience about circumventing Mutemwia’s spies
, he thought gloomily as he replaced the palette in the chest and sat on the edge of his couch.
Where may I find such servants? It’s not that I have anything to hide from the King and the Regent. My loyalty to them is without blemish. But I must not express a dissatisfaction that would worry them or cause them to see my mild unhappiness as the prelude to a more serious discontent
.
The drug had not made him sleepy. The dose he had requested was large, but no more than the amount to which he had become inured. It had gradually begun to rob him of a healthy appetite for food, this he knew, and on the rare occasions when he was unable to get to his supply he would slowly begin to sweat and tremble as though he had a fever. He contemplated his addiction calmly, not only regarding the poppy as a gift from the gods for easing pain, as every Egyptian believed, but also convinced that for him it was a strange compensation for his inability to become drunk, a pastime every citizen enjoyed, or to gratify the sexual desires he had ruthlessly repressed a long time ago. For obscure reasons of his own, Atum had forbidden these pleasures to Huy, and in their place had set the poppy, a drug that aided the Seeings and enhanced Huy’s visions as well as easing the terrible headaches that assailed him after each encounter with the future.
Now he reached to his table and, pouring water, drank absently, his mind on his problem.
I could go into one of Mennofer’s many markets and hire another scribe as I did Thothhotep, but would I be fortunate enough to find someone not only highly literate but also unaffected by the power and riches abundant in the palace? Someone incorruptible? And am I myself powerful enough to demand absolute fealty from a herald who will refuse to allow anyone access to my letters and will carry them directly to the recipients? Shall I talk to Heby about all this? Ask his advice?
He felt cold with defencelessness.
Later, bathed and dressed in fresh linen, he made his way alone to the King’s quarters for the evening meal. For the first time he was not comfortable in Amunhotep’s presence. It seemed to him that the young Pharaoh was pouting over some event or word that had upset him during the day, and Mutemwia’s glances Huy’s way seemed fraught with hidden meaning.
As the empty dishes were deftly removed and honeyed dates and the last of the wine were set out, Amunhotep sighed deeply and leaned towards Huy. “I have endured a day of annoyance and frustration, Uncle Huy. First of all, God’s Father Yey is ill. Again. And Yuya’s gone south to the Akhmin sepat to see to his duties as Overseer of Min’s Cattle at Ipu. He’ll be back tomorrow morning. Therefore I spent an afternoon trying to improve my chariot skills under the fumbling and inept instruction of Yuya’s assistant.” He grabbed up his goblet, drained its contents, and held it out to be refilled. “This morning I acquainted Nakht-sobek with my plans for a few building projects. He behaved as though he has no idea how full my Treasury is, although he’s supposed to be its Overseer. He dared to tell me that to begin construction now was precipitate and I should wait until this year’s taxes come in. If I’d had Kha with me, I’d have been able to argue with him.” He stuck one ringed finger in his wine and twirled it impatiently. “Well, am I sole ruler here or am I not?” He withdrew his finger and licked it, giving his mother a sidelong look.
“Not until your majority,” Mutemwia retorted crisply, “and Egypt deserves better than a sulky child guiding her. This is ridiculous, Amunhotep! What do you have advisers for if you fume at their advice?” She turned to Huy. “You have met Treasurer Nakht-sobek. Yey has been God’s Father, a valued adviser to the Horus Throne on both secular and religious matters, for many years. He has been Master of the King’s Horse and Chief Instructor of the King in the Martial Arts to both Amunhotep’s father and his grandfather. Unfortunately, he’s old and prone to the usual infirmities of approaching Beautification. Yuya is his son and will inherit his responsibilities when he dies, as well as his position as Chief of the Rekhit. You were not at Amunhotep’s coronation, so perhaps you are unaware that as such, Yey is accorded the privilege of being the first noble to pay homage to the new King.” She swung back to her son. “Instead of resenting Yey’s infirmity, you should be visiting him with gifts and words of appreciation. As for your building plans, put them away for a while. To do so will reassure your Treasurer that he is heard.”
“Why should I have to reassure anyone about anything?” Amunhotep muttered, but in telling Huy of his day, his gloom had gradually dispersed. He smiled, his whole face lifting. “Uncle Huy, if I give my plans to you, will you consult Chief Architect Kha regarding their cost and validity? I won’t pursue my Treasurer this year, but I intend to have my monuments begun when the flood recedes next Tybi! And will you come with me to Yey’s house? I want you to ask Atum to heal him.”
“You should meet him in any case, Huy,” Mutemwia put in. “But Yey is very old, Amunhotep. No god is able to prevent us from aging and dying, not even Atum.” She gave Huy a wry smile. “Although when I look at you, Seer, I wonder.”
For a while there was silence. A servant entered, bowed, and lit the brazier standing in the corner, for the spring night had become chilly. Huy’s gaze was immediately drawn to the swiftly growing flames beginning to heat the charcoal. Shadows gyrated on the walls close by. The air began to warm, and with its softening, Mutemwia’s perfume drifted into Huy’s nostrils.
Lotus, henna, narcissus
, he thought idly.
I must tell Tetiankh to sprinkle something calming around my bedchamber, essence of lilies in ben oil perhaps, to mask the scent of that accursed jasmine
. His glance strayed to Mutemwia. She had removed one heavy golden earring cast in the likeness of the goddess Nephthys and had laid it on the table in front of her. She was staring into the dimness, obviously lost in thought, absently stroking the piece of jewellery with one slow hand. The other rested against her cheek. Suddenly Huy wanted to leave his chair, cover the small distance between them, take both her tiny hands in his, and press them to his forehead. In a rush of sensory images he felt their warmth and the coolness of her many rings against his flesh, inhaled the increased intensity of her perfume as her arms rose, looked down at the outline of her slim thighs under the pleats of her diaphanous linen sheath. The impressions were so strong that he must have inadvertently made a sound, for she laid both palms flat on the table and faced him. Amunhotep appeared mesmerized by the fire as Huy himself had been, his face tinged a dull orange, his black eyes glittering in the leap and fall of the blaze.