The Horus Road (30 page)

The floor that had once been an ocean of ragged stone wavelets casting pools of tiny irregular shadow had been torn up and replaced. It ran away from the eye, level and even, punctuated by the rows of pillars that marched across its burnished surface. The disintegrating walls in whose holes birds had nested now rose planed and whole to a ceiling that spread high above without rift or sag. The throne dais had been completely refashioned. “This was no work for an architect, Majesty,” Sebek-nakht observed. “It required only skilled bricklayers and a knowledgeable foreman from Weset. What you see is naturally the bare bones of a final glory that you must try to imagine.”

“I can imagine it,” Ahmose said in awe. “Tiles of dark blue lapis covering the floor, the flecks of gold embedded in them catching the torchlight and sparkling like sunshine on water so that the whole room seems alive. Walls sheathed in electrum with images of the gods beaten into them. And a ceiling studded with silver stars.” He pointed to the dais, his finger trembling with excitement. “I can see the Horus Throne in the centre, Aahmes-nefertari, and the box containing the sacred Double Crown and the Crook and Flail resting beside it. Where are the shadows that always lurked in the crumbling corners?”

“The ghosts have gone, Ahmose,” Aahmes-nefertari said quietly. “They are content, for at last their long sadness is at an end. The palace comes to life again to house a King.” She thought she saw tears in his eyes, but if so, they did not spill over. For a long time he stood rooted, looking this way and that, sniffing the air that must seem strange to him, she knew, now that it brought the odour of brick dust and sweat to his nostrils instead of the damp decay that had always hung about the maze of silent rooms. Finally he lifted his shoulders as if to repudiate some unwanted weight.

“Lead on then,” he said to the Prince. “I am very pleased.”

He was escorted along lesser hallways full of the rubble of reformation, along passages whose roofs had been torn out to expose the ceilings of the stories above, through doorways leading to freshly opened pits and past pits that were being filled in. As he went, Sebek-nakht unfolded his conception of a palace that would emerge from the chrysalis of the old one, its rooms larger and more airy, its passages wider, its stairs more broad. “We cannot go up to the sleeping quarters,” he told Ahmose. “Many of the floors up there are not safe and there are dangerous holes where several of the windcatchers have collapsed inward. I have shown you which walls I wish to dismantle entirely so as to enlarge many of the apartments. This will limit the number of people able to inhabit the palace; therefore I request your permission to build two new wings, one reaching out to the north and one joining to your present house to the south. I will design them so that they can easily be adapted to accommodate a larger royal family. I have also designed new servants’ quarters of course, and small cells for your governors to inhabit while they are stationed in Weset. I would be honoured to submit those plans to you.”

They had come to the foot of the narrow, winding stairs leading to the roof where Seqenenra had been attacked and where Kamose would sit, his back against the remains of the windcatcher, his eyes on the panorama of river and distant cliffs beyond. Ahmose paused.

“These stairs are important to me,” he said. “You are a talented architect, Prince, and I congratulate you on the work you have done here so far. I have no criticism, indeed your vision has surpassed my own for this sacred place. But I want these steps left exactly as they are. Are they safe?”

“Yes, Majesty,” Sebek-nakht assured him, puzzled. “They have been examined and are sound but I had marked them for demolition and reconstruction. They should be wider and contain only one angle if many women and their burdened servants are to use them.”

“Build the women another way to get onto the roof from their quarters,” Ahmose said. “I want no one using this stair without permission. Set a door at its foot and another on the roof so that no one comes down it by mistake.”

“I can do that,” Sebek-nakht agreed. “But surely the stones and other debris that litter it should be cleared away and the steps themselves repaired?”

“No.” Ahmose shook his head. “Leave it just as it is, one small part of the ancient structure to remind future kings that without vigilance tragedy may once again fall upon Egypt. I have spoken.”

Later, when they had taken their leave of a visibly relieved Sebek-nakht and were almost at the pool in the garden where they would eat the noon meal, Aahmesnefertari took his arm. “I know why you really want the little stairs left alone,” she said. “But is it wise, Ahmose? An unused staircase with doors at the top and the bottom sealing it off, a place where evil went up and pain came down, where Kamose often climbed with his heart full of many strong and secret emotions, surely it is perilous to trap the vestiges of such invisible power. Will it not linger, seep into the rest of the palace, bring melancholy dreams to haunt us and alien memories of a sadness that is not theirs to those who come after us?”

“Perhaps.” He lowered himself onto the cushions set ready under the white canopy and at once Akhtoy appeared at the head of a procession of servants bearing trays. “But our destiny was forged on those steps, Aahmes-nefertari, and they are precious to me, both for that reason and as the only portion of the old palace left that will have directly borne the imprint of Father’s and Kamose’s feet. They will not allow us to be cursed by my decision.” She could see that he had made up his mind and would not be swayed. Ahmose-onkh came running from the direction of the watersteps, his guard hurrying behind him.

“Majesty Father, I have been reciting my prayers all morning and I am so hungry!” he was shouting even as he came up to them. “May I eat with you? May I be excused my afternoon sleep today? I want to go to the marshes and see the baby hippopotamus that has just been born.”

“Yes and no,” Ahmose responded equably as the boy flung himself down between him and Aahmes-nefertari. “We will go together to see the hippopotamuses but not yet. The parents of that baby will be dangerous. Once your aunt, the Princess Tani, was chased for the same reason. She had a love of the hippopotamuses and spent much time watching them.” Akhtoy had signalled and the servants were bending one after another to offer the food and beer. Aahmes-nefertari glanced at her husband sharply. Ahmoseonkh was reaching up to take the platter being offered to him.

“I have heard the servants speak of my Aunt Tani but not my family,” he said. “Why not? Is she dead? We do not go to her tomb to make offerings during the Beautiful Feast of the Valley. I only have one radish on my dish,” he complained to the hovering attendant. “Give me more.”

So while they ate, Ahmose told his stepson about the girl who had been full of lighthearted mischief, who had loved to watch the hippopotamuses parting the still water in the marshes as they rose ponderously from the depths, their huge, leathery backs glistening wet, their jutting teeth festooned with green weeds, who had danced and darted through house and grounds and brought laughter to master and servant alike. He spoke of the passion that had flared between her and his friend Ramose, how its flame had settled to a steady glow that still burned in Ramose, and how after Seqenenra’s defeat at Qes, Apepa had come to Weset to tear the family apart, condemning each of them to a different exile but taking Tani away as a hostage against any reprisal Kamose might attempt. Ahmose-onkh listened carefully, pushing his favourite vegetable to the edge of his plate to be eaten last. “But my Uncle Kamose the Osiris one did not do as the usurper commanded,” he interrupted Ahmose, crunching a stick of celery and waving the remains under his father’s nose. “He went to war. What happened to my aunt? Did Apepa kill her there in Het-Uart?” Ahmose shook his head.

“No,” he replied gravely. “He may be a usurper, Ahmoseonkh, but he is not a cruel man. She lives there still.”

“Oh.” The boy began to pop the heap of radishes into his mouth one by one with lusty enjoyment. “Then you will rescue her when you overcome that city, and she will go and live with Ramose?”

“Perhaps.”

“I hope so.” He was losing interest now that his curiosity had been satisfied and, handing his empty plate up to a servant, he rolled onto his stomach and began to run his hands through the grass where there were insects to feed to the frogs in the pool.

I suppose that he has just received his first history lesson, Aahmes-nefertari thought, watching him with a mixture of affection and sadness. Tani’s fate does seem like history now, an ancient story that belongs to another time. Ahmose did not tell him all of it, how Kamose had sent Ramose into the city to pass calculated information to Apepa and his generals, how Apepa granted Ramose a meeting with Tani in exchange for that information, and how Ramose thus discovered that Tani had married Apepa and was known to the Setiu as Queen Tautha. I feel very little pain when I think of my sister now, Aahmes-nefertari mused. What is so badly broken cannot be truly mended. When Ahmose takes Het-Uart, what will he do with her? And will our wounds then be opened afresh? “It is time for your sleep, Ahmose-onkh,” she said. “Raa is waiting.” He sighed ostentatiously but rose at once.

“Can I swim when I wake up?” he asked. Ahmose gave his youth lock a gentle tug.

“We will go and look at the baby hippopotamus if you like,” he said. “An hour or two on the river with you is just what I need.” Ahmose-onkh’s face lit up.

“Thank you, Majesty Father!” he crowed. “And I can practise with my throwing stick!”

“At ducks, not hippopotamuses,” Ahmose said, amused. He watched the boy race away towards the house and turned to his wife. “He has a throwing stick?” Aahmesnefertari dabbled her fingers in her waterbowl and dried them on the proffered napkin before replying.

“Emkhu had a little one made for him,” she said. “He can’t hit anything with it yet. Emkhu tells me that the ducks will be quite safe for some years to come.” Ahmose did not smile.

“He is almost five years old,” he commented. “From now on he will change and grow very rapidly. We must have more children, Aahmes-nefertari, another son, a daughter to legitimize Ahmose-onkh’s accession to divinity in his turn. He is all that stands between Egypt’s stability and a return to chaos. I would lock him up to preserve him from every vicissitude of life if I could.” He had never before spoken so directly of a fear she knew had begun to obsess him and at once she was filled with a sense of failure.

“I know,” she murmured. “I am sorry, Ahmose. But perhaps if you are able to stay home for longer than a day or two we might indeed begin to fill those new apartments of which Sebek-nakht spoke.” Her attempt to keep her tone light was successful. He laughed and kissed her on the neck.

“We might,” he agreed, a glint in his eye. “We must try to do so very hard, my beautiful warrior, in fact tonight …” He broke off, seeing his mother emerge from the shade at the rear of the house and come walking towards the pool, Kares pacing behind her carrying a stool. “Aahotep!” he called. “You have missed a fine meal!” She waved and soon came to a halt under the protection of the canopy. Beads of sweat stood out on her forehead and one tendril of dark hair was stuck to the moisture on her neck. Bowing shortly to Ahmose, she gestured to her steward, who set down the stool and snapped his fingers at a servant who was holding the beer jug. Aahotep lowered herself onto the seat and drained the cup being held out to her.

“The day is warm for spring,” she said. “I was not hungry, Ahmose. I have been with Tetisheri in the vegetable garden. I had it enlarged this year to cope with greater demands. Loads of silt from the flood had to be hauled to it and dug into the sand, and watering it has become a problem, it is now so vast. I want to move it entirely, turn one of the fields to the north from grain to vegetables so that they can be irrigated directly from a canal connecting with the Nile.” Kares handed her a square of linen and she wiped her forehead delicately, careful not to smear her kohl. “The days of a few rows of garlic, lettuce and onions is over. I am tired.”

“Surely you were not weeding yourself?” Aahmesnefertari expostulated, and Aahotep gave her a wry smile.

“Certainly not. But I found myself embroiled in an argument with Tetisheri over the cucumbers.” Aahmesnefertari blinked at her, puzzled, and her smile became half-chuckle, half-groan. “Tetisheri does not approve of cucumbers because they first came into Egypt with the Setiu. She does not want us to increase the crop. I told her not to be ridiculous, that cucumbers were cool and juicy to eat and in any case, all permitted food is a gift from the gods. But she was adamant. I was forced to directly override her commands to the garden overseer. She has gone to her quarters to sleep.” Aahmes-nefertari did not find the situation funny and neither, obviously, did Ahmose. His expression became thoughtful.

“Although she is aging, she is still in possession of all her faculties,” he said. “She should be accorded the reverence and respect due to both and I wish that I could give her some task that would absorb those remarkable energies of hers, but how can I when she continually tries to argue the smallest responsibility into a right to dictate the future of Egypt? I love her as my grandmother. In any other capacity she is an exasperation.”

“I want to make the journey to Djeb as soon as Hent-ta Hent’s funeral is over,” Aahotep said. “I had intended to send Yuf alone to inspect the tomb of my ancestor Queen Sebekemsaf but I have decided that I need a change of scene.” She cast a rueful glance at her son. “I am surely a little bored, Ahmose, when I am reduced to investigating the state of the vegetable garden and quarrelling with another Queen over cucumbers. Let me take Tetisheri with me.” She hesitated. “It will be a full progress, two ships, all my staff. She will enjoy it. We will put in at Esna and Pi-Hathor, and Nekheb too of course. We will be fêted and entertained along the way.”

“So you believe that Esna and Pi-Hathor need to be reminded that they are now under my permanent rule,” Ahmose said. It was a statement rather than a question and Aahmes-nefertari marvelled at her husband’s flash of acuity. Like so many others, I am occasionally lulled into thinking Ahmose as straightforward and uncomplicated as he seems, she thought to herself. I ought to have learned the fallacy of that impression a long time ago. Aahotep met her eye.