House of Dreams (29 page)

He carried himself with such innate grace and dignity that for a moment I was caught up in the sheer symmetry of his movements, but my eyes soon fastened on and then fled from one perfection to another. He was wearing a starched linen helmet of red and white stripes whose rim cut across his broad forehead and whose wings lightly brushed his squared shoulders. His face was wide, with a firm jaw, slim nose and mobile, well-formed mouth, all set on a short but lithe neck. The pectoral bumping gently on his muscular chest was very plain, a series of gold and silver links holding in the centre a black-and-white enamelled Eye of Horus with a jasper scarab hanging beneath it, and his one long earring, a pendant lotus, clicked softly against it as he strode. His calf-length kilt, secured by a thin jewelled belt, curved up over his tight hips and then dipped towards his private parts. Disenk had told me, during one of our interminable conversations, that this was the latest fashion for men but it did not suit those whose bellies had begun to sag. The belly approaching me above the whisper of the pleated cloth was so taut that its tantalizing striations were clearly visible. Wide silver bands encircled his upper arms with no suspicion of a fold in the flesh around them. He came quickly, moving in and out of the shafts of white light like a figure in a troubling dream or a god taking shape in a vision, luminously clear then indistinct, formed and unformed, until he came to a halt before us, his whole body bathed in dazzling sunlight, and smiled. The upward tilt of his hennaed lips did not dispel the air of easy authority he carried with him and his dark eyes remained politely watchful. The scent of myrrh invaded my nostrils, wafting to me from his healthy brown skin. So this was Pharaoh, the Son of the Sun, the Mighty Bull of Ma’at, Subduer of the Libu, Lord of the Two Lands. I wanted to clutch at Hui to prevent my trembling knees from giving way. He should have warned me, I thought furiously, unable to tear my gaze away from the glorious God himself. Pull yourself together, my girl, and concentrate on the moment, or you will have disgraced yourself for ever!

My Master had placed his palette and box on the floor and was bowing respectfully from the waist, arms extended. “So, Hui,” Pharaoh said. “Your patient is ready. I do not think the malady is serious, but one must never take chances with so illustrious a body.” His glance fell on me inquiringly and briefly our eyes met. I imitated Hui, hearing Disenk’s voice as I did so. “The reverence to royalty must be done swiftly, with eyes downcast and the head between the arms. For Pharaoh himself one goes down on both knees and the forehead and the palms of the hands must meet the floor. One does not rise until bidden to do so.” But Hui had only bowed from the waist and was even now straightening. Puzzled, I checked my deep obeisance.

“Highness, this is my aide and fellow physician, Thu,” Hui was saying. “She will have the honour of examining the Great One today. She is eminently qualified to do so, having been under my auspices for the last two years. I shall of course observe her diagnosis carefully.” He turned to me and I read pure humour in his blood-coloured eyes. “Thu, this is the Prince Ramses, eldest son of Pharaoh and Commander of the Infantry.”

“Highness, I am your faithful servant,” I choked, feeling a flush creep over my cheeks. You stupid idiot! I berated myself silently, furiously, my eyes on the floor between the two strongly boned, harmoniously muscled royal legs, but even in the midst of my embarrassment and confusion I felt his attraction and was conquered by it. The Prince put his hand under my chin and raised my face. The skin of his palm was rough, the texture of a man who was active with bow and spear, who moved from formal reception to barracks to bedroom with equal ease. The metal of his rings was cold against me.

“Banemus did parade-ground duty with me yesterday and he spoke of the blue-eyed enchantress in Hui’s house,” he said. “You seem too delicately lovely to be a physician. What is your lineage? Are you a citizen of Pi-Ramses?” I watched the movements of that very masculine but infinitely seductive mouth.

“No, Highness,” I said. “I am from the south.” His eyes lit up.

“From Thebes perhaps? Your family are minor nobles in that holy city?” I was saved from a reply by a voice from within the dimness.

“Ramses!” it called, echoing in the lofty ceiling. “Why do you pass the day with Hui when I am languishing here in pain and agony?” The words were petulant but the tone was cheerful, teasing. Ramses dropped his hand and laughed.

“The Mighty Bull is champing in his pen!” he said loudly. “I have business to attend to, Father. I will see you tonight.” He swept by me. His footsteps echoed as he went to the door which swung open at his approach. Then he was gone, and the room seemed more gloomy than before.

“Well done,” Hui whispered to me as we went to the couch. “I sensed your hesitation but you made a good recovery. Follow your instincts now, my little Thu. This is your moment.” He had recovered the palette and he handed the box to me. The couch and its occupant were very close. Together Hui and I went down on our knees and pressed our faces to the cold tiles of the floor. This, at last, was Pharaoh.

“Rise,” that happy voice commanded and we did so. Gathering up my courage I went forward. Hui took up his position a little behind me and uncapped his ink. I looked into the face of the ruler of Egypt.

Two small, alert eyes twinkled back at me from under the cloth cap prescribed by law, for from the time of his Appearing no pharaoh was allowed to be seen without a covering on his head. His face was full, the cheeks pendulous, the mouth resembling his son’s but thicker, more sensual. He raised untidy eyebrows at Hui with a sharp, “Well?” and Hui introduced me. The royal gaze returned to me and I was bidden to begin my examination. I was terrified but determined not to disgrace myself or Hui. I began with some questions.

“What are your symptoms, Majesty?”

“I have a pain and grumbling in my bowels,” he answered promptly. “I sweat with a mild fever. There is Ukhedu in my faeces.” I bent to smell his breath as he spoke. It was hot and foul.

“What have you eaten in the last two days, Majesty?” His eyes slid mischievously to my one exposed breast as I straightened and his tongue came out to rest on his lower lip.

“This morning fruit, bread and beer,” he told me solemnly, his glance shifting up my neck to my mouth. “Last night I feasted with my Vizier and his train and I rather think I partook of the sesame seed paste too excessively. I also drank copious amounts of Good Wine of the Western River. Perhaps it was tainted?”

“Perhaps.” I was trying to ignore those lascivious eyes which had now wandered to my own. I saw them widen in surprise. “Have you suffered these discomforts before, Majesty?” He sighed.

“Sometimes, my pretty one. You have blue eyes, the bluest I have ever seen, like the Nile under winter sunlight. Surely you are too young to be playing at the stern craft of medicine!”

“Majesty,” I retorted with mock severity, “I am here in a professional capacity to examine you and prescribe a treatment. If your Majesty wishes, you may flatter me later.” I thought for a second that I had gone too far. His expression went blank and then became suffused with the same authority I had seen in his son. Then he relaxed and gave a high-pitched laugh.

“Little scorpion!” he chuckled. “I have not seen your tail but your tongue certainly has a sting in it! I like you! Proceed with your examination!”

Taking a secret, slow breath I pulled the sheet away from him, laying it discreetly over his hips, and began to palpate his abdomen. My fingers sank into his ample flesh, which had a doughy consistency. His skin was hot and dry, his lower stomach slightly distended. As I worked I felt his attention fixed fully on my face, my breast swinging free. I did not want to put into words my disappointment and disillusionment. This large, gluttonous, fat man with his bold gaze and foolish patter surely could not be the Lord of All Life. The God who sat upon Egypt’s Horus Throne was tall and regal, sparing of word and graceful of action, a mysterious presence from whom must emanate the overwhelming power of the Godhead. The young man who had left, handsome and assured, charismatic and noble, he was really Pharaoh! They were playing a cruel trick on me, Hui and this flabby man whose penis was stirring under the sheet as I completed my probing. This could not be!

I kept my face impassive as my fingers explored the thick neck, then I stood back. “Your Majesty has a mild Ukhedu of the bowels, caused in all probability by rancid oil mixed with the sesame paste. Your Majesty’s heart is strong and there is no swelling of Your Majesty’s glands. I recommend a three-day fast of water only for Your Majesty, during which time Your Majesty will take the cleansing and restoring elixir I will prepare.” I bowed, hearing the rustle of papyrus as Hui recorded my words. Pharaoh stared at me for a long time, then he broke into a wide smile that lit up his face. I could not help but respond.

“No wine, little scorpion?” I shook my head firmly.

“No wine, Majesty.”

“How old are you?” The question was abrupt.

“I will be fifteen in two weeks, Majesty.”

“Hmm.” He pulled the sheet back up to his chin, holding it in both hands and peering at me over its edge like a naughty child. “And you are Hui’s pupil?”

“I am the Master’s assistant, Majesty.”

“You are gorgeous.” He closed his eyes. “I will sleep now. Send me the medicine. If it makes me sicker I will throw you in prison.” I knew that he was joking but nevertheless I bit my lip. “Paibekamun!” For a moment the name he had shouted made no impression on me, then I turned. The High Steward was materializing out of the dimness, coming up to the couch and bowing. I smiled at him but apart from a sidelong glance he ignored me as he did my Master. Like the other servants in the palace he was dressed in gold-bordered linen, but a broad blue-and-white sash denoting his office was tied across his chest. “Have wine and honey cakes served to the Seer and his assistant in my private reception room,” Pharaoh went on. Then as Paibekamun bowed again and backed away, the King’s hand shot out from beneath the sheets and grasped my sheath, pulling me down towards him. “Tell me, Thu,” he muttered breathily, “are you still a virgin?” I felt Hui stir behind me before I answered.

“Most certainly, Majesty,” I replied. “My Master rules a very moral house.” The cloud of rancid air enveloped me again.

“Are you courted? Is there no young man waiting impatiently for you to reach the age of betrothal?” I wanted to pluck his fingers from my linen but I did not dare. Instead I leaned a little closer until my nose brushed his. I do not know why I did so. Perhaps some dormant talent for coquetry was responding to his forthright questions, or a ruthless feminine need to see a man teased.

“No indeed, Mighty Bull,” I murmured. “I have been entirely devoted to my Master and my work.” He released me and I stood straight.

“Peculiar work for a woman,” he said wryly, and heaved himself over on the couch. Hui tugged at my arm. The interview was over.

Back in the room with such pleasingly human proportions, with the sound of leaves quivering in the breeze and filtered sunlight splashing across the floor, I sank into a chair. I found myself shaking with reaction, and very angry. Hui sat also, and regarded me steadily. There was silence between us. Before long, a servant appeared, bowed, set a silver tray containing goblets and a dish of sweetmeats between us, and retired. Paibekamun did not come. I had no appetite but drank the wine greedily, and the rush of heat to my stomach served to calm me somewhat.

“You knew who my patient was to be yet you gave me no warning!” I finally burst out. Hui raised a finger to his lips.

“I did not want to frighten you,” he explained. “If you had known, would you have behaved as you did? I do not think so.”

“And how did I behave?” I asked acidly. Hui selected a cake and nibbled at it before answering. He did not seem disturbed by my obvious indignation.

“Like a good physician, like a curious child, like a seductive woman,” he said. “In short, dear Thu, you were perfect. So was your diagnosis, and Ramses will not forget. Let us go home.”

Outside the door the same Herald was waiting. Wordlessly he led us back through the ante-room, the throne room, the impossible expanse of the public reception hall and out into the blazing noon sun. On the landing, our litter bearers sprang out of the shade in which they had been lying. The household guards, left standing at the door to the throne room, were once more before and behind us. Hui had one more comment as we reclined on the cushions and waited to be lifted. “I did not know that Prince Ramses would be there,” he said. I did not reply. Prince Ramses. I had eyed the crowds as we walked back through the palace, hoping for a glimpse of him, my heart racing at the mere prospect, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Paibekamun is a cold man,” I ventured later as we were turning into our own estate. Hui grunted.

“Paibekamun knows the etiquette of his position,” he retorted. “He is not for you to judge.” With that, we continued down the path towards the courtyard and soon alighted. Harshira was waiting, holding out one meaty hand to assist me, and as I grasped its reassuring firmness I thought how much more regal the bulk of Hui’s Steward was than the same girth in our Pharaoh. “Thank you, Harshira,” I said, and he smiled.

“I am your servant, Thu,” he replied.

Under Hui’s eagle eye I made up the medicine for Pharaoh—first a mixture of saffron to relieve his bowel cramps and garlic to slay the Ukhedu and then a restorative of kesso root, cinnamon and pepper. It had been a good naming day gift I reflected as I pounded my pestle into the herbs. I had rubbed shoulders with the privileged, I had actually touched Pharaoh himself, I had been in the palace. “It is not true that Pharaoh has no wealth,” I remarked to my Master as he watched me. “Never in my life have I seen such splendour!” He laughed grimly.

“Pharaoh’s Treasury is filled at the whim of the priests,” he said. “You think you have seen wealth, Thu? Of course, compared to your family in their mud house at Aswat, our ruler is unimaginably rich. But the temples are richer. Did you learn nothing from your history lessons with Kaha? There was a time when the royal palace at Thebes was paved with gold and its doors were beaten silver. Do not turn the kesso into dust, foolish one.” I laid the pestle aside at his reprimand and did not pursue the subject. When I had filled the two phials for the King and Ani had taken them away, Hui and I shared a simple afternoon repast and I went out into the drug of Ra’s afternoon heat to swim.