The King's Man (20 page)

Amunhotep was standing beside her chair, feet apart and sturdy arms folded. A starched linen helmet of white and blue stripes brushed his shoulders. Its rim, surmounted by a small rearing cobra with its hood flared, cut across his forehead.
The Lady of Dread, ready to spit venom at any who might wish him harm
, Huy told himself as the King gave him permission to straighten.
Why are they both arrayed with such powerful symbols of divine defence? Are they protecting themselves against me?
Amunhotep strode towards Huy with a broad smile, however, and Huy’s nostrils filled with the scent of rosemary as he was embraced.

“I’m almost as tall as you are, Uncle Huy!” Amunhotep exclaimed. “And did you remember that my Anniversary of Appearing is almost upon us? You’ll have left with Ptahmose by then, but I expect you to open the shrine in your cabin and offer incense to Amun on my behalf. My father died on the fifteenth of Mesore. Thus I ascended to godhead. Leave us, Nubti.”

The steward bowed and went out, closing the door behind him. For the first time Huy noticed Mutemwia’s personal scribe Nefer-ka-Ra, sitting cross-legged on the floor a little apart from her. His ink pot was open, papyrus unrolled across the surface of his palette, and a brush was in his hand. At Huy’s motion Paneb sank down beside his fellow and began his own preparations. Amunhotep swung back to Mutemwia’s chair. She had not stirred, merely acknowledging Huy’s veneration with a brief nod, but their eyes had met. Huy looked quickly away.

“So, Uncle,” the King continued. “My Mother tells me that you have had a vision concerning me. She has refused to say anything about it, although I’ve begged and threatened her, but it seems that she relents today. Yey has gone to the Beautiful West and we mourn for him no longer. Speak!” His words were light, joking, but beneath them Huy sensed the young man’s apprehension. He was tense himself.

“Sit if you wish, Huy.” The voice was the Queen’s. She was watching Huy with composure, her hands clasped loosely in her lap.

Huy declined. “The vision concerns you,” he said to Amunhotep directly, “but the Seeing was for Yey’s granddaughter Tiye, at her request and with the permission of her father the noble Yuya.”

Amunhotep grimaced. “Poor Uncle Huy! What a burdensome task for you! I hope your vision showed you that evil goose of hers taking after her for a change. It slips its leash far too often and attacks anyone it pleases, including me, but my Mother won’t allow me to order it beheaded and stuffed for one of my feasts. I swear Tiye sets it against me on purpose. Now.” His expression became solemn. “Tell me how a Seeing for Yuya’s daughter can have anything to do with me.”

“I didn’t expect it to, Majesty. Indeed I anticipated a very simple, perhaps even frivolous glance into the girl’s future for which I needed no permission from you. However, the god showed me something momentous.”

The boy had begun to drum his fingers impatiently against the back of his mother’s chair. Mutemwia herself had not stirred. Her gaze remained fixed on Huy. He could not read the thoughts behind it. With an inward sigh, he went on.

“Atum desires that Tiye should become your wife,” he said deliberately. “I Saw her beside you at Ipet-isut, crowned and clad in gold, on the day your Mother relinquishes her authority as Regent and you become a divine Incarnation. She was wearing the vulture headdress of female royalty, and gold and lapis hung from her earlobes. Mut’s claws held shen signs. You yourself were holding the crook and the flail in protection and blessing over the crowd. No matter how strange this seems,” he pressed on as the King’s fingers were stilled and his spine stiffened, “the will of the god is clear. For your own sake and for the health of Egypt, you must sign a marriage contract with Yuya’s daughter.”

He had imagined a violent outburst from Amunhotep and had steeled himself for whatever reaction his words would cause, but he was unprepared for the silence that fell, in which his voice seemed loud and domineering before it died away. Mutemwia remained still. So did the King. Huy, watching him carefully, saw his eyes gradually narrow. Presently he folded his arms, but the silence continued. Huy saw that he was thinking furiously, his hennaed lips pursing and relaxing, looking at Huy with a slitted gaze but not seeing him. At last he exhaled noisily, stepped from behind his mother, and sat, waving Huy down at the same time. Huy obeyed, bemused. Obviously there would be no display of royal bluster. Amunhotep crossed one leg over the other and leaned towards Huy.

“My trust in you has never been tested before,” he said, “but now I am forced to examine all the years behind us to assure myself that your own honesty has always been genuinely selfless. Year after year my Mother the Queen placed me in your care. She trusted you enough to guide my education during the months I spent on your estate, plant in me a reverence for the laws of Ma’at, rebuke my arrogance, and correct my childish restlessness. I came to love you, but was that because you set out to conquer the affections of a boy who would one day be a King? Bind me in affection to serve your own ambition for the future?”

Huy listened to him appalled, wanting to refute such insanity at once, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Mutemwia raise one hand, a quick gesture Amunhotep did not see, and he kept quiet.

“My Mother the Queen warns me often that a pharaoh may trust no one, that in the end the Incarnation of the god can rely on no advice but that of the god,” Amunhotep continued huskily. His hennaed palms drew apart, an evidence of doubt. “This instruction from Atum, this glimpse of what must come, it could be a plot hatched out between you and Yuya to place both of you in positions of immense power.” Suddenly he buried his face in his hands. “How may I know the truth?” he groaned. “Today I realize that in fact I do trust no one, not even you, my Mother.”

Mutemwia made no move to touch him. However, she laid her arms along the arms of her chair and turned to look at him. “You need to trust no one and nothing but the accumulation of evidence, Amunhotep,” she said crisply. “Firstly, my spies confirm that Huy has visited Yuya’s house only once, and that was with us, to greet Yey before he died. Secondly, they confirm that Tiye caused a nuisance at Huy’s door in the night, that Huy had her escorted home immediately, that Yuya punished her but gave her permission to request a Seeing, and that Huy Scryed for her only once. His recovery took two days. If you paid more attention to the daily reports of both your ministers and our spies, you would know these things yourself instead of being content to hear them from me. You may thank the gods that I am to be trusted. As for Egypt’s Great Seer, why would he attempt to ingratiate himself with the Lady Tiye and her family when he already enjoys the esteem of a King?”

Amunhotep had lifted his head and was staring at her. She rapped him smartly but gently on the cheek with the back of her hand. “You are almost thirteen years old,” she chided him. “In three years’ time the Horus Throne and absolute power in Egypt will be entirely yours. Wake up! Listen to me, to Huy, to your ministers, with more than one ear tuned to the urgings of your friends who want you to spend your time careening in your chariot out on the desert. I think that I have been too lenient with you. Today the Seer has woken me. Do you intend to trust him or not?”

Huy saw no sign of resentment on the King’s face in spite of Mutemwia’s tongue-lashing. Instead he recognized an expression of serious consideration that returned him briefly and vividly to the halcyon years when he oversaw the tutoring of his royal charge during the months of the Inundation.

“I hear you, my Mother,” Amunhotep said.

He reached across and touched Huy’s wrist, a charmingly tentative action that filled Huy with warmth.
This is the child I know, the kind-hearted boy I remember
.

“Uncle Huy, I truly dislike Tiye. Are you sure it was her that you Saw? Why her, a commoner, and not my sister Iaret, who is fully royal and quite legitimately claims pre-eminence? Not that I like her either—she whines a great deal—but marriage to her would reinforce my seat on the Horus Throne.”

So Amunhotep still doubts his blood-uncle’s desire to relinquish any right to govern Egypt
, Huy thought.
Does Mutemwia?
“It was definitely the Lady Tiye,” he replied, “and Majesty, the Atum did not see fit to acquaint me with the reasons for his choice. All I know is that, commoner or not, you are to make her Chief Wife.”

“You do realize that if I marry Tiye I’ll be giving her family precedence over every other noble in Egypt,” Amunhotep commented. “The title Yuya has inherited, Chief Rekhit, will be more than just an acknowledgement of gratitude to Yey and now to Yuya. Must I truly do this thing?” He rose and stood irresolute. “I suppose that Atum’s reasons will eventually become clear, and if I disobey the god I will certainly incur a punishment. May I consider the matter for a while, become used to it, before the Minister for Protocol draws up a contract?” His grin was rueful. “At least I won’t be expected to do my duty and consummate the union at once, and by then there will be concubines to compensate me. Are you sure of what you Saw, Uncle Huy? I am shocked by this astonishing turn my life must take.”

Huy also left his chair, and bowed. “Majesty, if you wish, I will See for you,” he offered. “You must have no qualms regarding such an important matter.”

The young man’s eyes were clouded as they met Huy’s. “If you have lied to me about Tiye’s Seeing, then you can just as easily fabricate a vision for me. Perhaps I should consult one of my astrologers. All they do so far is tell me which third of each day is lucky and which unlucky. They all promised me a very lucky beginning to this morning, but they did not say why.”

“It’s your privilege to command an answer from the oil in the Anubis bowl,” Huy replied. “In any event, make a sacrifice for clarity of mind to Atum, and to Amun also. I leave very soon for a tour of the Delta with Ptahmose, so your decision is required by the time I return. Forgive me for distressing you, Majesty, but believe that I have spoken the truth. Egypt will need you and Tiye together. Please dismiss me now.”

Amunhotep nodded. Thankfully, Huy backed out of the room, Nubti entered, and the doors were closed.

THE VIZIER’S FLOTILLA
left Mennofer at dawn two days later. Five barges were strung out in the centre of a river whose level was slowly dropping towards the sullen current that would hopefully presage the annual Inundation. Huy’s two barges followed those of Ptahmose. To Huy’s relief, his nephew had decided to bring up the rear in his own vessel. “I can’t cram my staff in with yours, Uncle,” he had told Huy the day before, “and there’ll be no room on your barge for me, my scribe, or my guards. I refuse to share the common servants’ space. I usually make this annual inspection aboard the Vizier’s barge, but the Regent has requested that you sail with him instead.” His tone had made it clear that he resented giving place to Huy, who responded with a polite apology and a sense of liberation.

So Huy sat and talked with Ptahmose under the large awning set up on the deck of the Vizier’s boat while their scribes and body servants drank beer in the shade of the cabin and the rowers moved them slowly past the dusty, drooping palms lining the banks. Beyond the trees, the air was often thick with chaff from the scythes and billhooks of the reapers who moved across the golden fields, the crops falling before them. But soon the Delta harvest of blooms took the place of barley and wheat, wafting the mingled scents of narcissus, lilies, jasmine, the aromatic tang of heliotrope, and a dozen others, forcibly returning Huy to the days of his childhood when his father had toiled for his uncle in fields like these.

Vizier Ptahmose was a charming, approachable man and Huy was soon entirely at ease in his presence. He could speak as knowledgeably about Egypt’s attempts to grow and harvest frankincense as about the strengths and weaknesses of the governors who answered to him. “Her Majesty the Regent has asked me to acquaint you fully with the responsibilities of my position,” he told Huy. “Your nephew knows them well. In the past he has accompanied me on my tours of duty while he saw to his own task of military inspection. However, Her Majesty wishes you to form your own opinion regarding the forces patrolling Ta-Mehu before you hear any report from the Scribe of Recruits.” He had cast a humorous sidelong glance at Huy. “Her Majesty says that she commanded your nephew to take you into every fort, garrison, and encampment over which he has jurisdiction, but to make no comment to you whatsoever regarding the officers and men you meet, or their deployment. I believe that your nephew has not yet spoken of this to you?” The tactful words were partly a question.

“Amunhotep-Huy and I have little but our blood in common,” Huy replied heavily. “I love him as my brother Heby’s son and I remember the difficulties of his childhood. I wish him only good. Although we are not close, I do know that where his loyalty to Egypt and to the King is concerned, he is an honest man. He will tell me of the Regent’s injunction when he is ready to do so.”

“Her Majesty spends much time pondering the future of this country,” the Vizier responded with seeming irrelevance. “We will see many changes in the months to come.”

The city of Iunu, where Thothmes was Governor of the Heq-at sepat, was their first stop. Huy, Ptahmose, and Amunhotep-Huy disembarked in the brilliant red of a late sunset to be greeted respectfully by Thothmes’ elder son. Bowing first to the Vizier, the young man indicated the litters resting on the broad watersteps. “You are expected, noble ones,” he said. “A meal has been prepared for you.”

“Assistant Governor Huy,” Ptahmose responded with a smile. “Of course you know the Great Seer and his nephew, the Scribe of Recruits.”

Huy embraced his namesake with delight. “You look more like your father every day! I trust he is in good health? And Ishat?”

They chatted as they moved towards the litters resting above the wide public watersteps. The Vizier had a litter to himself, but Huy was forced to share one with Amunhotep-Huy, who refused to answer Huy’s attempts at light conversation as they set off, and looked so miserable that Huy reluctantly asked him if he was well.