The King's Man (26 page)

Huy scanned the homely yet oddly compelling little face. “I can, providing what you confide in me does not endanger the King in any way. You honour me. I look forward to your daily company. I’m sure that the Regent’s scroll will reach May early tomorrow.”

Scribe Anhirkawi was waiting behind them, just beyond earshot. Tiye leaned close to Huy, and suddenly he could smell cardamom with a faint undertone of myrrh. The choice of such a strange and distinctive blend for perfume seemed bizarre, even shocking, on such a young girl.

“I became a woman six months ago,” she half whispered. “I’m grateful that Amunhotep hasn’t given sleeping with me one thought, because I’m certainly not ready to relinquish my virginity just yet. But what shall I do if he begins to find me attractive? Is he old enough to have a concubine in the harem? I’ve tried to find out, but my questions must be so discreet that they’re incomprehensible. Do you know anything?”

“The Regent has told me that as yet His Majesty shows no interest in sex,” Huy answered her as steadily as he could. Both her confidence and her candid question had taken him off guard. “If you sense an interest in you on his part and you have no wish to respond to it, then divert him. I rather think that such a ploy will soon come to you quite naturally, Tiye. But one day you must accept the privilege of his advances.”

She raised her eyes and grimaced, a habit Huy was becoming used to, and bidding him enjoy his day she gestured imperiously at her scribe and disappeared into the dimness of the passage. Huy followed slowly. He had a great deal to consider.

Mutemwia was sitting and dictating to her scribe when Huy was admitted and performed his reverence. She waved him to a chair and Ameni, her steward, glided forward to offer him the customary refreshments. Huy shook his head. His morning dose of poppy had set up an ache in his stomach that had prevented him from eating the first meal of the day, and he still had no appetite. He waited, absently breathing in the faint redolence of lotus and henna flowers infusing the air. Presently the scribe put aside the papyrus on which he had been working, set a fresh sheaf on his palette, and began to burnish it.

Mutemwia nodded a greeting to Huy. Although her face was painted and her black hair oiled and braided, she was still dressed in one of the loose, long-sleeved shifts she favoured and her feet were bare. “I didn’t attend the daily audience this morning, Huy,” she said. “I trust that it went smoothly.”

“The reports were thin and no one was very attentive,” Huy responded. “Osiris’s feast approaches and of course it means a holiday for all. Tiye was waiting for May and me when we entered his office earlier.”

“I know. I’ve already sent May the written permission he needs. I’m very pleased with her progress. Tell me, has anyone in the palace requested a Seeing from you?”

“No, Majesty. Tiye’s was the last hand I took. Were you wondering about Iaret and Neferatiri?”

Their eyes met in perfect understanding. Mutemwia hooked her toes under a nearby stool and pulled it towards her. “Not really. Both women are closely watched and their letters read. They are full of innocuous gossip. Do you miss the exercise of your gift?” She set both her tiny feet side by side on the stool.

“No,” Huy said at once. “The only headaches I suffer from now are the ordinary results of daily pressures. Seneb tells me to work my body, but I can’t find the time to do so.”

“In the future you will be forced to delegate your authority to your assistants. You have sent gold and a promise of other goods to the petty tribes within the Bend of Naharin.”

“You know I have.” Huy began to be puzzled at the turn the conversation was taking. “You ordered me to do so yourself. I want to establish trade and treaties with them before Mitanni does.”

“Good. I want you to turn your attention to the Delta now. I’m giving you the position of Scribe of Recruits. Do what’s necessary to strengthen the borders, clean up the careless listing of foreign herdsmen wandering into and out of Egypt, reorganize the manning of the garrisons—anything else you deem necessary for our continued safety. The army and navy are yours also.”

So Amunhotep-Huy’s fears were justified
, Huy thought rapidly.
Now what do I do about family loyalty? What do I owe my nephew? Certainly not a debt that would have me refusing this rank. His life is obviously in no danger, but what of his livelihood? He intends to marry very soon
…

“You need not worry about Amunhotep-Huy.” Mutemwia’s dry tones cut across the beginning of Huy’s silent dilemma. “I’ve decided to promote him to Vizier. For several years he’s travelled to every sepat with Ptahmose. The governors know him. So do I. He’s a harsh man. He’ll take a fist to a lazy servant, bully his underlings until they do what he expects from them, face down army officers and navy captains, but his devotion to the Horus Throne is absolute. In that respect he is entirely trustworthy.” She smiled faintly across at Huy. “Surprising, isn’t it? His allegiance also extends to every lesser King’s son. Part of a Vizier’s responsibility is to distribute land and revenues to those men, depending on their proximity to the throne. Your nephew knows the lineage of every one of them. He will neglect his wife and mete out punishments more severely than is warranted, but he will die before betraying anyone with a drop of royal blood in their veins. Is it because he himself comes from peasant stock and must prove himself? I don’t think so.”

“He will provoke enmity among the governors,” Huy said slowly. The Queen’s assessment of Amunhotep-Huy’s character had taken him by surprise. “He lacks Ptahmose’s tact, his courtesy and civility when dealing with the noblemen.”

“Perhaps so, but he is frank and honest. It will do the governors no harm to have to deal with the King’s representative in a different way. My son and I have already made the appointment. We are sending Ptahmose south to reopen the old palace and prepare it for occupation. We want to be in residence there before the end of the season of Shemu.”

“Amunhotep wants to escape the immediate reach of the priests in charge of all the temples to Ra in his many guises.” Huy knew this at once. “He also wants to be seen to be allied more closely to Amun. Weset has always belonged to Amun.”

“It makes us relieved and happy, doesn’t it, my Huy?” She bent forward, pulling the shift down around her ankles then resting both palms on the tops of her feet and her chin on her linen-clad knees. It was an artless, girlish gesture so at variance with the complexities she had been discussing that Huy was momentarily powerless to reply. “Weset also sits in the centre of the country,” she continued, uncurling and sitting back. “We will be easing the load we have placed on many of the ministers. You don’t know the Egypt of the south, do you, Huy? You’ve never been farther than Khmun, where you went to read the parts of the Book of Thoth guarded there. Weset is a mighty city, alive in a way that Mennofer, with its heavy bureaucracy and its ancient traditions, can’t be, and the desert to either side of the river, beyond the cultivated fields, has its own beauty.”

“It’s close to Nekheb, isn’t it?”

“Very close. You will be able to take offerings to Anhur’s tomb with Thothhotep during the Beautiful Feast of the Valley.” With visible reluctance she signalled Ameni. “I must dress and visit Yuya. How will you spend the remainder of this day?”

Huy rose. “First to my duties in the harem and then to Amunhotep-Huy’s office. Mutemwia, I don’t know whether or not to thank you for my new tasks.”

“Ameni, please summon Tekait.” Mutemwia pushed the stool away with one foot and, rising, came swiftly to Huy, placing both hands flat against the golden sa amulet he always wore on his chest and looking up into his face. “When I do not see you, my day is incomplete,” she said. “I listen for your voice as I come and go through the corridors. I look for you among the crowd of courtiers and ambassadors and boon-seekers at the time of audience. Sometimes I want nothing more than to return to the nights when you and I sat in your office with one lamp keeping the shadows away while we spoke together of everything the future held for us and for my little son. I hold the reins of Egypt in my hands, many reins, and I must be always vigilant in my control. I am more than pleased to place one of those reins in your grasp without any worry. So is the King. To him you are the true God’s Father, although the honorary title goes to the men of Yey’s family. Do not die, dearest brother!”

For answer Huy laid his own large hands over her warm fingers and, bending his head, kissed her gently on her hennaed lips. “I love you also, Mutemwia,” he said quietly, “and our deep friendship over the years has bridged the gulf of blood and station between us. Yet I am also your servant, and Amunhotep’s, and I shall remain so until I am summoned to stand in the Judgment Hall and lay my heart upon Ma’at’s scales. Now dismiss me. Tekait is hovering and glaring at me.”

Mutemwia laughed and let him go, and with a bow he went out into the passage and set off to the harem with Perti and his guards ahead and Paneb at his heels. He could still feel the softness of her mouth against his.

8

THE OFFICE OF THE SCRIBE OF RECRUITS
was oddly peaceful when Huy walked through the open doorway with Paneb behind. The floor had obviously been recently swept, the surface of the large desk scoured, and as far as Huy could see, the shelves lining the walls and holding boxes full of scrolls had been dusted. Amunhotep-Huy was alone, sitting behind the desk with his arms folded. On seeing Huy, he stood and bowed. “Scribe of Recruits.”

“Vizier.”

The younger man did not invite Huy to take a stool. He gestured widely, a sweep of his muscular brown arm that seemed to take in not only the office but the whole dusty expanse of the parade ground outside as well. “It’s all yours, Uncle. Everything you’ll need to know is in the boxes. I’ll lend you my scribe for a few days. I suggest that you put him together with Paneb so that Paneb may become familiar with the complications of the task.”

Huy felt his irritation rising and firmly pushed it down.
Amunhotep-Huy is justifiably happy. If he seems full of self-importance and condescension, I’m not surprised. I pray that Mutemwia has made the right decision in giving him the Viziership
. “Thank you for the advice, and congratulations on your advancement,” he said. “Will you miss the men you have worked with for so long?”

Amunhotep-Huy shrugged dismissively. “I suppose so. I’ve known many of them since I was a boy, studying under Irem. But this new position puts me on a superior footing to Henut-nofret’s father, and that’s worth losing a few acquaintances for.”

It took Huy a few moments to remember that Henut-nofret was the name of Amunhotep-Huy’s wife-to-be, and that Naval Commander Nebenkempt was her father.
Superior in office but not in blood
, his thoughts ran on.
You resent your own father and me because we were not born into the ranks of the nobility. Why can’t you just be grateful for the wealth and honour you enjoy?

“I’m glad the court’s moving to Weset,” Amunhotep-Huy was continuing. “It’ll be easier for me to control the various dealings and procedures within the sepats when my office is in the centre of Egypt.” He came briskly around the desk. “I must consult with Ptahmose before he goes south, and he’s eager to leave Mennofer before the Inundation becomes too high. As it is, I expect he’ll be forced to travel by land after a while. I’ll see you at my wedding feast next month, Uncle. The King has agreed to attend.” His mouth curved briefly in a cool nod to polite convention, then he was gone. Huy heard him shouting for his scribe.

Paneb had walked forward and was running his eye over the inscriptions painted on the ends of the boxes crowding the walls.

“Find the names and histories of the army and navy commanders first, Paneb,” Huy ordered, sinking into the chair Amunhotep-Huy had just vacated. “Read them to me. We might as well begin with all the King’s officers.”

That evening, Huy could not sleep in spite of the massage Tetiankh had given him and the larger dose of poppy he had requested. His body was exhausted, but his mind was full of the information he and Paneb had discussed and he was not able to dismiss any of it. Lying on his side, he watched his body servant come and go as he put away Huy’s jewellery, removed the bowl of scented water and the cloth he had used to wash Huy’s face, returned to set out a loincloth and a freshly starched kilt for the morning, checked the height of the wick in the lamp beside Huy’s couch, and gathered up Huy’s limp kilt and smudged loincloth. With the laundry in his arms, he bade Huy a good night and the door closed softly behind him.

Tetiankh has grown old, and I haven’t noticed
. The realization came suddenly into Huy’s thoughts, cutting through the demanding clamour of titles and responsibilities.
How is it that in all the years he has served me I haven’t seen him age? The joints of his fingers are swollen. He seldom smiles in my presence because to do so would seem improper, but on the rare occasions when he does relax such formality, his face breaks into a myriad of lines. He is always on his feet. Do they give him pain?
A wave of panic flushed through Huy.
I should retire him to the estate at Hut-herib, let him spend the rest of his life sitting idly in the shade of the house and gossiping with Merenra or Kar, my bad-tempered gate guard, while they drink beer and watch the vegetables grow. How old is he? How old am I? Gods, he and Amunmose are the only servants remaining to me from our days on the estate. Amunmose is in his prime, but you, Tetiankh, my beloved body servant, although I have never heard you complain, do you struggle through the duties of each day and long for rest?
Huy found himself sitting on the edge of the couch, his heart pounding.
You came to me with the others hired by Hut-herib’s Mayor to care for Ishat and me and the miraculous estate given to me by the Osiris-King Amunhotep, the second of that name, our present Pharaoh’s grandfather. We were so happy there, all of us. Young and strong and full of hope for the future in spite of the arduous work Ishat and I undertook for the god. Atum. Atum, who preserves this body of mine, who has placed in me an awareness of the future as something accessible, and with that awareness has come a curious blindness to the ravages the passing of time leaves behind. I have considered these things before but vaguely, idly. Why have they come to me now with such force?