The King's Man (44 page)

“Why Mennofer, Huy? Why does Anubis want you to go there? Can you at least tell us that much?” The voice was Mutemwia’s. Huy raised his face to her with difficulty. She was leaning forward almost double and looking straight into his eyes.

“I must find the end of the Book of Thoth and solve its mystery before you may hear the words of Anubis,” he blurted. “It lies in Ptah’s temple. I must keep my counsel until then.” Despair filled him as he tore his gaze from hers. Amunhotep was staring at him and frowning. Tiye’s cheeks had flooded with colour and she was tapping the arms of her chair with all ten furious fingers.

“How long will all that take you, mer kat?” she snapped. “Even if you leave immediately, it will take you a month to reach Mennofer. Did your vision show you exactly where the scroll or scrolls are? How long it will be before the final secret is revealed? We won’t see you for months. Months! Who will administer this country while you are gone? Will you take hundreds of officials and heralds with you?” Her tone was biting. “I respect the gods, but this is too much!”

You want to call both me and Anubis liars, but you don’t dare
, Huy thought as she swept up a silver goblet, her hennaed hands shaking with rage.

“Peace, Tiye.” Amunhotep left his seat, and with both strong arms he pushed Paneb and Paroi aside and hauled Huy upright. “Go home and sleep, and come to me tomorrow so that we may discuss the tasks to be done while you are away.” He seemed to be sobering rapidly. “Most of them can be accomplished from Mennofer. Make use of the palace there if you wish. We will wait patiently for Atum’s word regarding our Prince. Thank you, my old friend.”

It was a gracious speech. Gratefully, Huy returned to the care of his men. Nothing further was said. Together they and Huy’s guards walked slowly back to the waiting litter and the blinding heat of afternoon. While the little cavalcade made its way to Huy’s estate, he lay still on his cushions, tensed against every jolt. Before Kenofer eased him onto his couch, he dictated his vision to Paneb, giving the scribe the usual instructions regarding its safekeeping. Paneb bowed himself out. Huy fell into a drugged sleep.

13

HE WOKE WITH A SENSE OF DREAD
and lay staring at the ceiling. His dreams had been muddy, unlike the lucid fantasies the poppy usually gave him in sleep, and his body felt heavy. He did not shout for Kenofer, who would be waiting for the summons outside the door. Instead he forced himself to review the Seeing he had performed for Prince Amunhotep. Now that he was no longer a participant in it, being buffeted from one shock to another, he was able to examine several details he had overlooked at the time. As he did so, his trepidation grew. There had been no Inundation for two years according to the man who had stood beside him, a sure sign that the gods were exacting a terrible punishment on Egypt and her King. The misery caused by just one season without the life-giving spate of water and silt had taught the country’s governors and High Priests to store grain against the famine that would ensue. Huy had been told that the King in his vision had closed the temples and denuded them of their gold and the contents of their silos as well, so that the inhabitants of Akhet-Aten would suffer no want. But what of the rest of Egypt’s citizens? Had the people been commanded to worship the Aten and no other? If so, it was no wonder that the gods, especially Egypt’s great saviour Amun, were offended and Ma’at herself wounded. Uneasily Huy remembered the Seeing in which Ma’at’s blood had spattered the ground between the two of them. Her pain had been his fault, the result of one act of weakness on his part. The King in this latest Seeing had committed many terrible sacrileges. Who was he?

“The goddess is not pleased.” Anubis’s distinctive voice came back to Huy. “She arrives today from Weset to find her husband-son displaying himself rudely like any commoner …” Perhaps Anubis was referring to the beautiful young woman clinging to his arm? Huy unconsciously began to count the number of white stars painted on the ceiling above him. Yes. Yes. That conclusion was logical, sane. There were few lines to mar the misshapen King’s face, and the giggling, scantily clad girls seemed very young. They were not behaving like palace servants. His daughters? So the strikingly lovely woman would be their mother and the King’s wife. Chief Wife? Goddess? No, not goddess. The ceremony at the Window of Appearances presented a semblance of formality, yet it was Tiye who stood on the King’s right and stared out over the crowd, her harsh features grim. On the King’s right. And it was Tiye who was wearing the great Empress’s crown with its disc and horns, Tiye who had turned and hissed something angrily into the man’s ear. If Tiye was “the goddess” arrived from Weset, was her husband Amunhotep still living? Was the peculiar man beside her one of her relatives? But no. Only a King could bestow the Gold of Favours, and besides, neither Ay nor Anen, her brothers, even remotely resembled this … this ugly thing. Cursed thing.
The cursed thing
. Huy’s body tensed under the sheet and he began to count the stars more quickly, desperate to keep at bay the conclusion his mind was inevitably forming.

“her husband-son …”

“the cursed thing …”

With a groan, Huy forced his eyes away from the ceiling and sat up, gripping his raised knees. Anubis had called the baby “the cursed thing your hand is holding.” Prince Amunhotep, Tiye’s son. Her husband also? Her future husband? If so, then what unimaginably terrible reason could have impelled her to break one of Egypt’s strictest laws? A Hawk-in-the-Nest might marry one of his sisters in order to legitimize his claim to godhead and therefore to kingship. The pure blood of godhead had always flowed through female royalty. But a Queen, indeed any female citizen, might on no account form a sexual relationship with a son, let alone marry one. To do so would upset the delicate balance of Ma’at and bring hardship and ruin to Egypt. Two years of drought …

Huy’s thoughts ran on.
Why, Anubis? Why an act of such profanity on Tiye’s part? Can this vision be averted?
The answer came to Huy at once, not from Anubis but from his own mind.
What I saw will be the result of my own failure. It’s too late to go back, to prevent His Majesty from marrying Tiye, yet somehow I must make sure that this Seeing proves false. But how?
Before his mind could put forward a logical answer, he shouted for Kenofer. “Poppy and a cup of milk,” he ordered as his body servant appeared. “No food. My stomach is on fire. And send Amunmose to me as soon as possible.”

Kenofer hesitated. “Master, Physician Seneb wants you to limit your intake of the poppy. It is damaging your stomach and destroying your appetite.”

“I know. Seneb refuses to understand that I rely completely on Atum’s protection against the more pernicious effects of the drug, and he will uphold me until he doesn’t need me anymore.”

“That may be so, but Master, you’re in your sixty-fifth year. Surely—”

Huy left the couch and stood. “Please hurry, Kenofer. The poppy will not kill me, and my welfare does not depend on Seneb. Make sure there’s hot water for my bath.”

Kenofer nodded reluctantly and went away. Huy began to pace the confines of his chamber. It seemed a long time before Chief Steward Amunmose knocked on the door and bustled in carrying a tray. Huy drained the cup of milk offered to him, and then swallowed the poppy.

“The water in the bathhouse has been kept hot for you.” Amunmose returned the empty cup and vial to the tray and peered at Huy. “You still look drained,” he remarked. “You do know that there’s a better way to take your opium, don’t you, Huy? Governor Amunnefer recommends it—straight from the harvest in its brown form.”

“I know. But I’m afraid of its strength, Amunmose. I cope reasonably well as matters are, and only prescribe the raw poppy to those for whom I See if their pain warrants it.”
You also are being ravaged by the inroads of time, my dear steward
, Huy said to him mutely.
You were a voluble, cheerful young man, quick on your feet, always ready to share a joke. You’re still voluble and cheerful, but age is gradually leading you to the day when crossing from your chair to the door will be as huge an undertaking as a journey to Punt
.

“Very well.” Amunmose set the tray down on the small ebony table to one side of the door and looked at Huy inquiringly. “Kenofer said that you wanted to see me.”

“Yes. I intend to leave Weset and move into the palace at Mennofer as soon as possible. As my chief steward, the organization of this is your responsibility. I want you with me in Mennofer, Amunmose, not Assistant Steward Paroi, who must stay here and see to my affairs while I’m gone. Talk to Chief Herald Ba-en-Ra. He must accompany me, of course, and provide other heralds. As his second-in-command, Sarenput can arrange the conveyance of messages to me from the administrative offices here. Trying to govern this country from the north will be a nuisance, but it can be done. After all, kings and administrators did so for hentis before me. I want my own cook also. Rakhaka will grumble, but he’s to have no choice.”

Amunmose’s kohled eyebrows rose. “Is this move to be permanent?”

“No. I’m convinced that the last portion of the Book of Thoth has been found in Ptah’s temple, and I must see it at once. We’ll stay in Mennofer until all of it has finally become clear to me.”

“That miserable nephew of yours told you about it, didn’t he?” Amunmose said. “I’ve heard that the restoration and additions he oversaw for Ptah are wonderful. How strange, that he of all people should be the one to place the Book’s final solution in your hands!”

“Strange indeed. Go about your business, Amunmose, and I must be bathed and present myself before Their Majesties. The prospect of my imminent departure does not sit well with either of them, particularly the Empress.”
At least I am spared the necessity of reciting the events of Prince Amunhotep’s Seeing to them
, Huy thought as he made his way down to the bathhouse.
Atum himself wants that moment postponed, and I am profoundly grateful
.

He had reached the confluence of several passages and was about to turn down the one leading to the heavily guarded royal wing of the palace when Chief Steward Ameni rose from a stool and swiftly approached him. Bowing, he indicated an open door through which a beam of strong sunlight lapped at Huy’s feet. “Her Majesty Queen Mutemwia asks that you briefly attend her before proceeding to the King’s apartments. She will not detain you for long, mer kat. Follow me.”

Captain Perti hesitated, Huy nodded at him, and surrounded by his soldiers Huy took the few steps out into the garden, squinting into the bright day. Not many residents of the palace were about. Ministers and lesser officials would be in their offices, beginning the duties of the day. The Minister of Foreign Correspondence, Vizier Amunhotep-Huy, Treasurer Sobekhmose, together with their assistants and scribes, would have concluded the daily affairs of the morning audience over which Huy himself usually presided and would be preparing their reports and recommendations for him. The ambassadors resident in Weset would be dictating the letters to their lords and chiefs that were clandestinely brought to Perti for reading and copying before being passed to the heralds.
I’ll have to leave Perti behind if I want to retain control of all foreign communications
, Huy thought as he threaded his way through intermittent shadows cast by the many varieties of trees dotted everywhere.
That solves the problem of our control outside Egypt. But who can shoulder the many and complex duties inherent in the governorship of this country? The King makes broad policy; he cares little for the dozens of decisions required every day to carry it out
.

Mutemwia was sitting on a mat at the base of a spreading sycamore, her attendants around her. Seeing him come, she gestured and the women scattered. Huy signalled to Perti and went on alone, bowing as he entered the welcome shade, and the Queen patted the grass beside her. She was not smiling. Huy folded near her feet and drew up his knees in a motion he recognized a moment later as self-defensive. His arms went around them.

“Neither Amunhotep nor Tiye understand why they must wait to hear the god’s prediction for the baby,” she said, “but I do. I remember your long struggle to untangle the mysteries of the Book, the frustration you lived with almost every day. The end of the task you took upon yourself all those years ago must come before all else. But I’m deeply troubled.” She laid a hand lightly on his arm. “I know you far better than either my son or his Empress. They saw your refusal to divulge the details of the Seeing as a simple obedience to the command of Atum, but I saw more. Shock and dismay, mer kat. Anubis showed you something terrible, didn’t he? Something even worse than the death of a royal heir. Since yesterday I have been imagining one future disaster after another.” Clasping her fingers together, she placed them in her lap. Her gaze, when it met Huy’s, was composed. “You told us that, unlike Prince Thothmes, this child will not die young. Did you lie?”

“No, dear Majesty. I neither lied nor distorted the truth.” He resisted the urge to shift his position, smooth down the braids lying against his collarbones, loosen the tiny stud holding the earring against his lobe, anything to lessen his growing tension.