The King's Man (41 page)

Amunhotep-Huy’s chin rose. “Not only does my likeness stand beside His Majesty’s, but the meals set before that of His Majesty are placed respectfully at my feet by a we’eb priest when the divine force of royalty has taken its fill,” he said proudly. “Ptah’s worshippers give obeisance to the King as they gather in the outer court. They reverence me also.”
And I deserve their veneration
, his tone implied.

“An honour indeed.” Prince Anen nodded. “Apparently your glorification of Ptah’s holy house exceeded even the King’s expectations.” He turned to Ramose. “Let’s find Userhet and inquire how my sister is faring and then get something to eat. I’m very hungry.”

Immediately Huy and his older nephew bowed. Ramose hugged Huy and gave his brother a quick smile, and the two friends moved into the throng. Huy supposed that Amunhotep-Huy would swiftly melt away also, but glancing at him, Huy saw that he was frowning and chewing his lip.

“There’s something Ptah’s High Priest asked me to tell you, something he thought you’d find interesting,” he said. “He gave me the message months ago, and he said it wasn’t important enough to send with a herald. You and I meet so seldom that I completely forgot about it, but speaking of my statue has reminded me. My statue beside a divinity,” he went on proudly. “The power of our god and King enfolds my likeness and I share in his reflected glory. Oh, this is so annoying!”

Huy watched and listened, bemused. Amunhotep-Huy folded his arms. His sandalled foot began to tap. Huy was about to suggest that he might go away and consider the matter elsewhere when Amunhotep-Huy’s brow cleared and he rolled his eyes.

“Of course! Now I remember, and it’s no wonder I forgot—such an unimportant piece of information. During the temple’s restoration, the House of Life had to be emptied, and the archivists took the opportunity to inspect every scroll and update the records. Apparently an ancient scroll was found wedged behind the much larger one that listed every High Priest of Ptah since the temple was first built. Ptahmose wants you to travel to Mennofer and inspect it. He thinks it confirms Imhotep’s term as one of Ptah’s High Priests. Imhotep’s tenure there has always been suspected but never proved. I believe that’s all. Does it have a special meaning for you, Uncle? You’ve gone pale. Here. Drink your wine.”

Stupidly, Huy looked down at the cup he still held. His hand had begun to shake. In an uncharacteristic act of kindness Amunhotep-Huy folded his own hands around Huy’s and helped him lift the goblet to his mouth. Huy gulped thirstily at the violet liquid. His throat had gone dry.

“Thank you, my nephew,” he managed. “This news is indeed of great concern to me.”

“I can’t imagine why.” Deftly Amunhotep-Huy removed the wine from Huy’s trembling grasp. “You’re the only person with permission to sit down in His Majesty’s presence. Let me find you a stool.”

But Huy was already recovering. He shook his head and smiled into the other man’s face. “I’m fine now, and I must send word to Ptahmose at once. Take my fond greetings and congratulations to Henut-nofret regarding her latest pregnancy. I would like to visit both of you soon. Thank you again for your care of me, Amunhotep-Huy.”

Immediately the customary expression of smooth detachment fell like a mask over the man’s painted features. “The well-being of the mer kat is essential to us all,” he replied evenly. “Just send to me when you would like to grace our home.” He bowed perfunctorily and was soon lost to view in the crowded space.

Affection, pity, and annoyance warred briefly in Huy and then were swept away on a wave of sheer excitement. A hidden scroll had emerged from the darkness of uncounted hentis, a scroll regarding the man who was now worshipped as a god.
Regarding? Is it too much to hope that the hieroglyphs on the ancient papyrus were painted by the great Imhotep himself? Are they even legible after so long? And, oh gods, are they the key to the puzzle of the Book of Thoth? The final entry I’ve always suspected to be missing?

Huy began to weave his way purposefully towards where the King now sat, Seal Bearer and Chief Scribe Nebmerut on the floor beside his chair, intending to ask Amunhotep’s consent to leave, but there was a sudden commotion by the doors and a path magically appeared for Chief Steward Nubti. Amunhotep sprang to his feet.

“Majesty, you have been blessed with a son,” Nubti announced. “The Empress begs for your company.”

Amunhotep gestured peremptorily to Huy and, without waiting for an answering bow, hurried through the doors and into the passage beyond. Tense with frustration, Huy followed. How many hentis had that scroll lain in dust and darkness before being pulled into the dimness of the temple’s House of Life?

The doors to Tiye’s apartments opened briefly and the King, his scribe Mahu, Mutemwia, and Chief Steward Nubti, together with Royal Seal Bearer Nebmerut, disappeared inside. Huy, bringing up the rear, caught a brief glimpse of Tiye’s mother, the Lady Thuyu, dishevelled and obviously preoccupied, performing her obeisance before the doors closed again. An expectant silence had fallen among the aristocrats and their various servants waiting outside. They drew away from Huy as he found a place by the wall. Coolly, Kenofer reached behind one of them, picked up his stool, and set it down for Huy, who sank onto it gratefully. He had no idea how long he would have to wait before as mer kat he would be commanded to inspect the little Prince and sign his name over Nebmerut’s seal, beside those of the hereditary lords required to attest to the royal arrival.
Fortunately I won’t be asked to See for the baby at once
, he thought, his eyes on Perti’s sturdy spine where the soldier had taken up his station in front of him.
I have a day or two in which to compose myself. I have a strong inkling of what Anubis will show me, and how will I summon up the courage to approach Tiye and Amunhotep with the truth?
After a while a subdued conversation resumed around Huy, but he did not hear it.

The sun was about to set and a gloom was creeping into the crowded corridor by the time the doors were again flung open and the aging but still imposing figure of Chief Herald Maaninekhtef appeared, flanked by Chief Harem Steward Userhet and Seal Bearer Nebmerut. “The Queen and Empress Tiye, beloved of Mut, divine wife of Amunhotep hek-Weset, Neb-Ma’at-Ra, Ka-nakht kha-em-Ma’at, Great of Strength, Smiter of the Vile Asiatics, has been delivered of a son.” Maani-nekhtef’s clear tones rolled over the weary throng. “Let Egypt rejoice! Let her citizens bring offerings of thanksgiving to mighty Amun, father of our King! Approach, noble ones, and recognize your Prince! Do homage to him, and set your illustrious names upon the scroll of legitimization!”

The men surged past him. Huy followed more slowly. As the pre-eminent power under Pharaoh, it was his right to be the first to acknowledge the baby and sign the scroll, but he walked through the spacious antechamber and into Tiye’s sleeping room reluctantly. The air was hazed and fragrant with the incense still wisping from the cup set at the feet of Bes, fat-bellied dwarf god of fertility and safe childbirth, who was grinning complacently through the smoke. The birthing stool had already been removed, and Tiye lay propped up on her couch, the baby in her arms, her women around her, and a beaming Amunhotep beside her. Huy bowed respectfully to her mother Thuyu, who gave him a frosty nod in response. Thuyu had never warmed to the man she saw as a usurper of her husband Yuya’s place at the King’s side. Long ago Huy had given up trying to win her over. Tiye’s body servant Heria had obviously just finished washing her mistress and was reaching for a comb on the littered bedside table. Anhirkawi, Tiye’s scribe, cross-legged on the mat by the couch, was opening his palette. Huy sensed relief in the purposeful activity around him.

Seeing him, Tiye waved him forward while the cream of Egypt’s nobility waited impatiently behind Commander-in-Chief Wesersatet’s unspoken warning. Huy knelt at Tiye’s elbow, and after kissing her hand he glanced at the boy. Red, wrinkled, and hairless, the tiny being was asleep. Bundled in spotless linen as he was, Huy could see little but his head.

“Don’t touch him, not yet,” Tiye said. “He already has the protection of onions dipped in honey tied around his waist, and as soon as you predicted a son for me I commissioned an amulet from a lector-sau at Amun’s temple to place on his wrist. I want you to See for him before the seventh day when the seven Hathors come to predict his fate. Their pronouncements will be unimportant, because you will See everything, Huy.” She winced as Heria found a knot in her tousled red hair, then smiled up at her husband. “I know you’re eager to send out the heralds. Give Egypt a few days of holiday in honour of your second Prince.”

Amunhotep bent and took her head, pressing it tightly against his gold-hung chest and then carefully smoothing his son’s tiny brow. “I adore you for this amazing accomplishment, my Tiye,” he exclaimed. “Rest now, and enjoy your triumph.” He strode away, pride and confidence in every step. The assembled mass knelt as he passed. The doors slammed shut.

Tiye waved Heria away. “Bring me a small dose of poppy,” she ordered. “I ache and I’m sore.” When the servant had gone, Tiye put her face close to Huy’s. “Last night Amunhotep dreamed that a serpent had slithered into his beer,” she murmured. “It’s a good omen, as you know. It means that his heart will overflow with happiness. But I dreamed that I was drinking beer, gulping it down with a terrible thirst that would not abate. Suffering will come upon me, Huy, terrible distress going on and on. You have the ear of the gods. How may I avert this thing?”

Huy thought quickly. “There’s no suffering as acute as the pains of childbirth, Majesty,” he said, matching her quiet tone, “and more often than not it increases in intensity and seems endless. Don’t fret over this dream. Suffering has already come upon you and continued for many hours. The meaning of the dream is true, and has been fulfilled, and is gone.”

Her expression cleared. “Of course. How wise you are! Now please, mer kat, after you set your name to Nebmerut’s scroll, have that ghastly statue of Bes removed. I didn’t want him here in the first place, but my ladies were insistent. I’ve endured his fat belly and the tongue hanging out of his grinning mouth for long enough. Let Hathor preside over our dancing and merrymaking instead, and drive away the evil spirits!” All at once she yawned. “As soon as the rest of them have done their duty, I shall take my poppy, hand over my miraculous Prince to his wet nurse, and sleep for a very long time.” Planting a kiss on his cheek, she dismissed him, and he rose gratefully to his feet and moved away from the couch.

His first look at the child had filled him with a sense of foreboding that stayed with him as he gave orders for Bes’s removal, gathered up his entourage, and sought the privacy of his litter. Full night had now fallen. The stars were clear in a velvety black sky and the air was pleasantly warm. Weset’s inhabitants were still wandering about the streets. The combined noise of their thousands followed Huy as he left the palace precincts and turned south towards his house, the litter-bearers carrying him through the city’s outskirts and beyond, to the guarded poppy fields. As usual his escort was challenged. As usual Perti answered curtly, and before long Huy was walking into the blessed familiarity of his vast reception hall. Paroi met him with a lamp and accompanied him to the communal room that lay between his bedchamber and Nasha’s apartment, offering him food and drink before leaving him to settle into the plain cedar armchair with its matching footstool he most preferred. He dismissed Paneb, and Kenofer took up his post within earshot by the door.

Nasha looked across at Huy and smiled. “You’re back early,” she commented. “So was I. Nebetta’s party bored me. She should restrict the use of her skills to her official profession as a singer in Isis’s temple. Catching up on the news is difficult when one must listen politely to yet another ode devoted to His Majesty’s glory and composed by the singer herself.” Swilling her wine, she drained it, licked her lips, and set the cup back on the table between them.

It had been several years since she had fingered her burgeoning girth, gazed with distaste at the faint spidering of broken veins across her cheeks, and regretfully decided to restrict the amount of wine she drank. Two cups at social gatherings and only one each evening when she was forced to stay at home were all she allowed herself. Huy, remembering Anuket’s disastrous addiction to wine, had admired Nasha’s self-discipline. Her waistline had slowly shrunk. The veins in her face had been replaced by a myriad of delicate laugh lines around her eyes and of smiles around her generous mouth. She was now sixty-six, and as full of acerbic wit as ever. She had never curbed her tongue when confronted by the babble of a fool, and expressed herself with such a consistently intuitive perception that Huy had come to rely on her as a trusted intimate. She had never reminded him of her sister Anuket, Huy’s great love, but often her walk and gestures brought Thothmes, her brother, to mind.

“Egypt has another Prince, Nasha.” Huy broke the small silence that had fallen. “The astrologer-lectors will decide whether this evening was a lucky third to the day and therefore auspicious for the baby or not. I think they’ll choose to call him Amunhotep after his father and grandfather.”

“His birth is no surprise,” Nasha commented. “You forecast it months ago. But it troubles you, Huy, and you won’t tell me why.” She shot him a shrewd glance. “You often find comfort in unburdening yourself of the weight of government, and I hold many of your secrets. This child has haunted you from the time he was conceived. There’s something dark in his future, isn’t there?”

“Yes.” Huy hooked one foot under the stool, pulled it towards him, and lifted both feet onto it. “Atum has not yet shown me exactly what it is, but in some way it concerns the fate of Egypt herself.” He watched the play of lamplight glide across the moonstones on the thongs of his sandals. “The less you know, dear Nasha, the safer you will be if Wesersatet comes to question you.”

“Huy!” She reached for her cup, remembered that it was empty, and crossed her arms over her breasts in an involuntary gesture of self-protection. “You make it sound as though you are contemplating something reckless that will bring danger to us here! You are mer kat! You can do anything without fear of retribution. Your word is law. You are not accountable for any deed other than blasphemy against the gods or the King.” Her grip on herself loosened. “Egypt is under the shelter of both, as long as her citizens honour the laws of Ma’at. I’ve known you almost all my life. There’s no one in this blessed country more honest than you, or less likely to violate Ma’at’s statutes. So what on earth are you talking about?”