House of Illusions (35 page)

Fleetingly I thought of Pharaoh and experienced a moment of vertigo. How could it be that I had ever lain beneath him on his fine white sheets in that vast bedchamber, my nostrils full of the scent of incense and perfume and his sweat while about the golden walls, discreetly invisible, his servants waited to answer the snap of his fingers. Ramses! Divine King, with your large kindnesses and your unpredictable callousness, do you ever think of me and regret that I was nothing but a dream?

For some time now I had been aware of another wall that had appeared on my right, higher, smoother than the one on my left, and suddenly I realized that beyond it lay the palace and its gardens, the city within a city that sprawled, forbidden and enclosed, across the whole breadth of Pi-Ramses until it met the Lake of the Residence on the other side. I had come upon its rear, and surely if I tossed a pebble it would rattle down upon the roofs of the concubines’ cells. Straining my ears, I listened, with a mixture of revulsion and longing, for those remembered sounds that had sometimes troubled my sleep in my hut at Aswat—the laughter of women, the cries of the royal children playing by the fountains, the music of harp and drums—but it was the hour of the afternoon sleep and the precincts were quiet. I trailed my fingers along the wall as I went, as though their tips could see through the stone when my eyes could not. Did Hatia, mysterious Hatia, still sit motionless just within her door, swathed in black linen, the everpresent jug of wine beside her and her slave behind? Were the two little concubines from Abydos, Nubhirma’at and Nebt-Iunu, still in love with each other and did they still spend the hour of the sleep, this precious hour, satiated in each other’s arms? And what of Chief Wife Ast-Amasereth with the voice of mixed gravel and honey and the curiously attractive uneven teeth? Did she still inhabit the spacious apartment above the cells of the lesser women and spend this hour sitting silently in her ornate chair, her full, outrageously hennaed lips slightly parted as she pondered the complex web of spies she had woven about us all?

Then there was Hunro the dancer, lithe, restless Hunro with whom I had shared a cell and a lethal secret. Her seemingly artless friendship had been a sham. Beneath her warmth was a deep disdain for my peasant roots, and when I had failed to murder the King, when I became useless, she had turned from me with relief. At the thought of her my fist clenched and my contact with the wall was broken. It was a place of terror, the harem, as well as unimaginable luxury, and I never wanted to see its lush interior again.

I had come at last to a corner and peered around it cautiously. The wall ran on, shielding the kitchens and palace servants’ quarters, but I did not want to follow it for ahead of me, across an expanse of lawn dotted with doum palms, was the familiar bulk of Amun’s temple. The air above it was shimmering from the myriad incense stands that poured out their silent prayer to the greatest of all the gods, and the sound of chanting came to me, faint but clear. Gratefully my punished feet sank into the cool grass. At the back of the sanctuary wall I found a secluded corner screened by bushes, and placing the knife against my chest, I curled up and was almost instantly asleep.

I woke with something cold and damp being thrust against my cheek, and even before I had opened my eyes the knife was in my hand and I was struggling to my feet with a thudding heart. The culprit was a sleek brown dog with a long, enquiring nose and a collar studded with turquoise and carnelian around its neck. I could hear an imperious voice calling, and I did not wait to see who might come looking. Pushing the animal away, I sidled around the bushes and then ran, coming with a startling suddenness upon Amun’s wide forecourt. It was crowded with evening worshippers, and I realized that I had slept the afternoon away, miraculously undiscovered. I had been very stupid.

For a moment I stood shaking on the edge of the milling people, then pulling myself together, I skirted them and headed once more for the centre of the city. Kamen must send me some encouraging message on the following night, for I was becoming nervous and tired. Fits of despair stalked me and panic itself was not far away. I could not evade Paiis’s soldiers or continue to wander aimlessly about forever, and at that realization the idea of retreating to the one place Paiis would not expect to find me returned.

I would wait until dark, and then I would slip into Hui’s grounds. Perhaps right into Hui’s house. After all, I knew it as well as I knew my miserable little hut at Aswat. Better, in fact, for its tiled floors and painted walls had often been more real to me than the rough box in which I had endured the last seventeen years. Why not? I asked myself as I joined the vociferous throng pushing to acquire the last produce of the day. He has no guards. He is too arrogant for that. The reputation of his wizardry keeps the populace away from his door, but I am not afraid of the power of his gift. I can easily avoid his porter, and then I will be in the safety of his garden, away from crowds and dirt and soldiers.

But such reasons were spurious, I knew, for deep within me was a thirst to see him again, the man who had been my father and mentor, lover and destroyer, and the need was greater than sense. Would I kill him, or bury my face in his beautiful white hair? I did not know.

Once the idea took hold of me, I could not be still. My appetite fled, and so did my desire to hide myself in crowds. Taking the alleys, I worked my way east and slowly, slowly, the light went from dazzling to muted, from pink to pale orange to red, and by the time I reached the long path that ran behind most of the great estates the sun had gone.

I could not scale Hui’s wall, and his gardeners assiduously trimmed the trees that might have hung over into the alley. The only way in was under his pylon, and that meant circumventing the Lake guards. As the sky darkened, pale stars became visible one by one, and under their white pricking I retraced the short way I had come along the path and headed for the water. I did not yet attempt the guards. I would stay hidden under the spreading sycamores that shaded passers-by until their watch changed and hope that in their momentary relaxation I could slide beyond them.

With the knife in my lap I waited for a long time. Through the tracery of leaves I could see the two men, one each side of the path, and hear their sporadic conversation. They were bored and tired, ready for a hot meal and their own hearths. The traffic on the water grew as the inhabitants of the Lake embarked in their skiffs and decorated barges for a night of feasting, and for a while the same was true of the path. Torchlit groups sauntered past me like glittering butterflies, speaking of light, thoughtless things, and I envied them their privilege with a bitterness I had conquered during my exile but that came back to me now in all its evil power. I had been richer than they, greater than they, and I gritted my teeth and reminded myself that it was through my own fault that I had lost it all. Nevertheless, not my fault alone. I watched the night guards approach with a cold anticipation.

The four men drew together and the watch being relieved began to give the report. Quietly I got up, and stepping into the water, not taking my eyes off them, I waded past. I had to go slowly so that my steps made no sounds of washing, and in the space between the trees I crouched so as not to be silhouetted against the sky. But I regained the path further on without incident. They were still talking. Rounding a bend in the path, I drew a sigh of relief and set off for Hui’s entrance.

The night was still young and it occurred to me that Hui might be entertaining. So much the better. I could wander about the garden, perhaps sleep a little, and by the time he took to his couch he would be less likely to wake at any small betrayal of my presence. I began to examine the layout of the house in my mind as I walked, wondering where I might best enter, and by the time I had decided on the secluded rear entrance I was standing before his pylon.

Despite the assurance I had given myself earlier that I was not afraid of his Seeing power I paused, for in spite of an almost moonless sky the pylon cast a gloomy and vaguely threatening shadow and the garden beyond was lost in blackness. I looked to where the old porter lurked in his alcove just past one of the stone uprights and saw the faint glow of a fire. If the man was cooking a meal or even just gazing into the embers, his night vision would be temporarily ruined. Stupid Hui, I smiled grimly to myself as I glided under the pylon and immediately sought the grass to either side of the path where my footsteps would be muffled. Stupid, arrogant Hui. Every gate in this district has its guards but yours. What makes you so sure that you are invulnerable?

I was momentarily disoriented as the shrubbery closed around me, but my feet knew where they were, and I had not gone far before the confusion left me. I was behind one of the hedges that lined the path to the house. I could see it all laid out in my mind’s eye: the shrine to Thoth, the fish pond among the flower beds to the left, the larger pool where I had swum my lengths every morning under the lash of Nebnefer’s critical tongue to the right, across the path and over the other hedge. And at the end a low wall dividing garden from courtyard and house. Keeping to the grass, I padded beside the fish pond, the lily and lotus pads indistinct shapes on the surface of the cloudy water, and pushing through the thick bushes that flourished between the trees along the wall, I looked out on the deserted courtyard and the mass of the house beyond.

Nothing moved. The gravel of the courtyard gave off a faint luminescence, but under the pillars fronting the house all was dark. There would be a servant sitting before the door, of course, to receive guests and summon litters when they wanted to leave. No litters or bored bearers waited in the courtyard. Silence filled all the spaces my eyes tried to pierce, a silence I remembered suddenly as being peculiar to Hui’s domain, full of the quality of timelessness. I had to fight against the feeling of womblike security it brought to me. Once this had been my home, a whole world of safe dreams and exhilarating discoveries under the mantle of the Master’s protection. Or so I had thought.

I withdrew and lowered myself onto the lawn. It was not possible that he had gone to bed. It was too early. Perhaps he was working in his office and I could not see the glow of his lamp from where I was. And then I remembered that he did employ one guard, a man who stood outside the office door every night, for inside the office was that other room where Hui kept his herbs and physics. And his poisons. The door to that room was secured by the intricate knots he had taught me, but a determined knife could sever rope and the guard was an extra insurance against anyone foolish enough to attempt to break in. The outer office opened directly onto the passage that ran from the rear of the house through to the entrance hall and if I tried to enter that way I would be seen at once. I would either have to go in before Hui closed the office or wait until the servant at the foot of the pillars left his post and slip in the front.

At that moment there was a commotion on the path, torchlight and the murmur of voices, and I crawled to peer over the wall once more. As I cautiously lifted my head, the house burst into life. The doors opened, pouring light onto the gravel. A large shape appeared and stood expectantly as the gate to my right creaked and four litters swayed across the courtyard to be set down in front of the pillars. The curtains were pulled apart and a cold shiver took me, for it was Paiis emerging with the impudent grace I remembered so well, and I had no eyes for the other guests also setting their sandalled feet on the ground and walking towards the figure waiting to greet them.

He had not changed much. His body was perhaps a little thicker, and I could not tell whether his mane of black hair was shot through with any grey, but the face he turned briefly to the woman behind him was as startlingly handsome as ever with its alert black eyes, its uncompromisingly straight nose and the full mouth that always seemed on the verge of a sneer. He was wearing a thigh-length kilt of scarlet linen and his chest was hidden under a mat of gold links. His animal allure no longer fascinated me as it had when I was younger, for I knew it for the shallow thing it was. All the same his blatant, rather tawdry beauty still made a purely physical impact. He put an arm around the bare shoulders of the woman and raised the other in greeting. “Harshira!” he called. “Pour the wine! Are the nut pastries hot? I am in the mood to celebrate tonight. Where is my brother?” The woman reached up and muttered something against his ear that made him laugh, her own hand going to his muscular stomach, and they passed into the hall followed by the other revellers. The doors were closed, but light now diffused through the side windows, and I heard distant music begin.

I gave them time to settle before their low, flower-laden tables, to exchange pleasantries with their host, to down a quantity of the wine I knew was the best to be had in the city. I gave Harshira time to cross and recross the hall, shepherding the servants with their laden trays, and then to take up his station behind the closed doors of the dining room. I gave the litter-bearers time to put their backs to their conveyances and become drowsy. Then I unfolded from the grass, climbed easily over the wall, and walked across the courtyard.

As I had surmised, the man under the pillars had retired. I pushed open the main doors, entered the house, closed the doors behind me, and strolled over the spotlessly gleaming tiled floor with its evenly spaced white columns. Nothing had changed. Hui’s elegant furniture, the cedar chairs inlaid with gold and ivory, the little tables topped with blue and green faience, were still scattered artfully about. The walls still smote with their profusion of frozen men and women with cups raised to their mouths and flowers in their hair, inscrutable cats beside them and naked children tumbling at their feet.

The stairs ran away from me into darkness on the far side of the hall, and as I approached them, I could hear the buzz of laughter and conversation interspersed with the trilling of a harp and the clatter of dishes coming from my right. I did not try to eavesdrop. A mood of icy calm was on me, a feeling of almost impudent omnipotence. One of the servants had dropped a sweetmeat from his tray and I picked it up and ate it as I went. I did not even concern myself with the slap slap of my bare feet on the tiles. Moving deliberately, I mounted the stairs. I did not need illumination. Times without number I had gone up and down these steps, not running, for Disenk did not allow me to proceed in anything but a sedate and ladylike manner, and memories rose with me as I gained the upper landing and passed confidently along it.