The Oasis (45 page)

“Forgive me,” Tetisheri said, and he stopped and turned to her in desperation.

“No. It is I who must apologize,” he managed. “You are right. The news regarding Tani is very bad and neither of you should have to wait to hear it. Yet the Princes must be fêted this afternoon. I will tell you everything tonight.”

They had come to the pond and the pleasing, leaf-dappled grass surrounding it. Large canopies billowed in the heat. Cushions had been piled on the shaded ground beneath them. The family settled themselves while Uni, with many bows, directed the others under the adjacent shelters. Servants appeared from the house bearing trays laden with dishes, napkins and jugs. The musicians took up their stations by the lily-choked water. Tetisheri rose and held up an imperious hand. At once the chatter ceased. “Princes of Egypt, commanders and friends,” she began. “I welcome you here to the heart of Egypt. Victory has come out of great suffering and despair. Now is the time for celebration. Let us eat and drink together and remember that if it were not for the courage of my son Osiris Seqenenra this day would be like any other. My steward Uni is at your disposal while you are here. Long life and happiness to you all.” She sat down again amidst a storm of clapping. The servants began to fan out. The musicians sent a lilting melody piping through the air.

Aahmes-nefertari was sitting in a chair. Ahmose, who had made himself a nest of cushions at her feet, knelt up and laid his face against her belly. “I have missed you so much,” he murmured, reaching for her hand. “I am so glad that this baby waited to be born until I returned. Has your health been good, my sister?” She stroked his head then pushed him gently away.

“Ahmose, did I not dictate many scrolls to you, full of how boringly predictable this pregnancy was?” she teased him. “Now that you see me so fat and ungainly do you still love me?” Her gaze met Kamose’s. What is she saying to me? Kamose wondered. Her mouth smiles but not her eyes. Has her health not been good? A servant bent before him offering food and the connection between Aahmes-nefertari and himself was broken.

He ate the fruit of his nome and drank its wine, feeling a fragile equilibrium return to him as his nostrils filled with the summer odours of his childhood and his ears received the voices that had meant security and peace to him in his growing years. Before him the house squatted, its whitewashed walls protecting its memories, its doorways inviting inhabitants who would create even more, yet he knew that when he stood and crossed the grass and entered his home, it would no longer recognize him. It had not changed. It was he who had sailed away with a dark spawn growing inside, and now it exuded from his very pores, an invisible cloud that diminished the glory of the golden afternoon and made the cheerful crowd around him seem like dull paintings on brittle papyrus.

He watched Ramose and Nefer-Sakharu sitting knee to knee under the canopy where the Princes drank and laughed. Man and mother were leaning towards each other, their expressions solemn, their unheard conversation obviously serious. His glance strayed to Ankhmahor beating time on his folded ankle with one finger as the drums pulsed their rhythm over the garden. Beside him his son Harkhuf was talking to him animatedly, and occasionally the Prince would nod or smile briefly, but his thoughts were not on his offspring’s words. Kamose sighed, and in an effort to shake off the mantle of depression and dislocation still enfolding him, he sat straighter and called for more wine.

As appetites were assuaged, the Princes began to leave their canopy and come one by one to pay their respects to Tetisheri, bowing before her and kissing her hand. She spoke to them all, enquiring about their families, asking them what division they commanded, what they had done, and Kamose thought what a great lady she was, intelligent and gracious, indomitable and proud. In his detached frame of mind, however, he did not fail to notice that Prince Intef and Prince Iasen, after exchanging these polite pleasantries with his grandmother, made their way to Ramose’s mother and spent the remainder of their time speaking with her. Rousing himself, he beckoned to Baba Abana, Kay and Paheri, and when they had come, he presented them to his family. The stern lines of Tetisheri’s face relaxed at their names. Bidding them sit, she began an animated discussion involving Nekheb, shipbuilding and the strategy of warfare on water. Kamose’s mood lifted a little. Excusing himself and calling to his dog, he left them all.

In the evening the members of the family gathered in Tetisheri’s quarters. Akhtoy and a harried Uni had found accommodations for the guests and appointed house servants to them. Hor-Aha had crossed the river to report that the Medjay were settled in their barracks and glad to be back on dry land. Anhkmahor had taken charge of the household guards, putting them under the command of the Followers and ordering the watches before choosing to sleep with his men in their compound.

Ramose had asked to be allowed to share his mother’s rooms and after some hesitation Kamose had agreed. He knew that the pause between Ramose’s request and his granting of it had hurt and puzzled his friend but something about the way the two Princes had approached Nefer-Sakharu and the way in which she had greeted them troubled Kamose. He could not say why. After all, he had told himself irritably, Teti made himself a friend to almost all the Princes up and down the Nile. Intef and Iasen have known his widow for years. It must have been a joy to her to see them again, to be free to talk about Teti with them and with Ramose, to relive happier times. By all accounts she has not been able to find much peace here with the family of her husband’s executioner. Yet his reasons sounded forced to his own ear and the tiny kernel of anxiety did not go away.

However, he had dismissed it temporarily by the time he sent Behek back to the kennels with a servant and made his way through the quiet torch-lit passages of the house. Uni admitted him to his grandmother’s quarters. The rest of the family was already there. Tetisheri sat by her table, her feet on a footstool, her ringed fingers curving loosely around the winecup beside her. Opposite her, Aahmes-nefertari also occupied a chair. The girl had had her paint removed and her own black hair cascaded to her shoulders. She was wrapped in a thin white cloak which she held close to her across her stomach. Kamose thought that she looked like a tired child. Seeing him come, she gave him a slight smile. “Raa caught Ahmose-onkh dragging the house snake through the reception hall,” she told him. “He had it in his fist, just behind its head fortunately. He screamed when she took it away from him and tossed it into the garden. He could have been bitten, the silly little boy.” She made a face. “I pray that the snake will not take offence and refuse to come back. That would be very bad luck indeed.” Again Kamose caught a look from her, half-speculative half-fearful, before she looked away.

“The snake did not bite him because it knew he was just a baby,” he commented. “And it will return for its milk for the same reason.” He slid to the floor with his back to the wall beside Ahmose.

“It is not an omen, Aahmes-nefertari,” her mother said. She was sitting on the stool in front of Tetisheri’s cosmetic table, the thick rope of her luxurious braid pulled forward over one shoulder and hanging against one red-clad breast. “Ahmose-onkh is becoming spoiled. Now that you are home, Ahmose, perhaps you can impose some discipline on him.”

“Me?” Ahmose laughed in astonishment. “What can I do with a two-year-old child? He terrifies me!”

“Think of it as training a dog,” Tetisheri offered. “Reward him when he is obedient. Punish him when he is naughty. A lazy and indulgent master makes an unruly dog and I cannot see that children are so very different from dogs.” She turned her severe gaze on the luckless Aahmes-nefertari. “You are not lazy, my dear, but you have certainly been over-indulgent with the boy. So has his nurse. From now on you must imagine him with grey fur and a tail when you look at him.” They all burst out laughing but sobered quickly, the moment of family cohesiveness and understanding giving way to a wary silence fraught with their unspoken questions. Kamose thought of Ramose’s mother, who had spent so much time with Ahmose-onkh when she first came to the house.

“Tell me of Nefer-Sakharu,” he said. “Does she still grieve?” Aahotep tut-tutted.

“Grieve?” she repeated almost contemptuously. “If sullenness and a very pointed desire for seclusion can be interpreted as grief then yes, she still grieves. We had to take Ahmose-onkh away from her if you remember, Kamose. The servants heard her belittling us all to him and one never knows how much of what is said to a young child remains in his mind. She is an ungrateful woman.” And perhaps dangerous also, Kamose added to himself. He made no rejoinder. Tetisheri’s rings rapped the table.

“No more chatter,” she said briskly. “We want to hear of Tani. You dictated many words regarding Ramose’s foray into Apepa’s palace, Kamose, but what you did not say has caused us many worried hours. Tell us now. Tell us everything.” Kamose looked up at her from his position on the floor. She was staring down at him, her expression carefully composed, but he knew her well enough to sense apprehension beneath the motionless lines of her age-scored face. The knowledge increased his reluctance to speak, but he swallowed, drew up his knees, and began to recount the events Ramose had repeated to him with such bitterness.

His words were arrows, each finding a mark in the listeners and burying deep and painfully. Aahmes-nefertari’s hands unfolded, found their way to the arms of her chair, and began to grip the gilded wood ever tighter. The colour gradually drained from her face. Aahotep slowly bent lower and lower on the stool until her forehead rested on her knees. Even Ahmose, who already knew of the fate his sister had chosen, felt the sting of Kamose’s voice as he told of Tani’s marriage to their enemy, her new title of Queen, the name the Setiu called her. He was pleating and then smoothing out the hem of his kilt repeatedly and scrutinizing the ceiling. Only Tetisheri sat immobile, scarcely blinking, her hooded eyes never leaving Kamose’s mouth. But it seemed to him that as the moments slipped away they carried her vitality with them, leaving her an ancient husk in which the life force had sunk to a flicker.

He was not sure how long he spoke. The words could change nothing. At last he closed his mouth and a heavy silence rushed in.

He expected an outburst of furious indignation from his grandmother, but when she spoke it was gently. “Poor child,” she croaked. “Poor Tani. She went to Het-Uart with such courage, not knowing what would become of her, determined to keep faith with the family through any torment Apepa could devise. But she was not prepared for a subtler kind of torture, one that was not recognized as an attack on her innocence. And poor Ramose. His alliance with this family has left him accursed.” Aahmes-nefertari had begun to cry.

“How could she do such a thing?” she burst out hysterically. “How could she give her body to that … that aging reptile, the murderer of her father, the blasphemer!”

“Calm yourself, Aahmes-nefertari, or you will disfigure your baby with your violence,” her mother said thickly. She had struggled upright and was clinging to her braid with both hands as though it might be a lifeline. Aahmes-nefertari continued to sob.

“The thought of our blood mingling with Apepa’s in some bastard child Tani may produce makes me sick!” Aahotep said loudly, with such venom that Kamose was shocked. “Tell me she is not pregnant, Kamose! Tell me she has not been so stupid! What would Seqenenra say?”

“He would say that she is a casualty of war,” Kamose responded harshly. “And no, as far as Ramose could ascertain she carries no child, nor has she given birth. If it were so, I think Apepa would have taunted him with the fact. Tani has no Setiu blood in her. The title of Queen is an honorary one. Apepa already has a Chief Wife who is fully Setiu and whom he regards as therefore fully royal, not to mention numerous secondary Setiu wives. Apepa’s sons have no tincture of Egypt running through their veins. To him they are pure. You know in what disdain the Setiu hold us. Tani must know it also. Surely she would not risk giving birth to a baby of mixed parentage, even if Apepa was intelligent enough to see such an event as an opportunity to lay claim to a heritage that has always been ours. Besides, it is much too late for him to rally any support by considering that particular alternative.” Noting the hectic flush on Aahotep’s cheeks and the unnatural brightness of her eyes, he pulled himself to his feet and taking the winecup from his grandmother he carried it to his mother, winding her trembling fingers around its stem and helping her to lift it to her lips. She gulped at it, then pushed him away.

“It is easy for you to talk that way,” she said shrilly. “Casualty of war! We are all casualties of war yet we have clung to our integrity.” The wine glistened on her mouth. A few drops hung quivering, netted in the dark strands of her braid. “You men,” she went on more coherently. “You are able to purge yourselves of your suffering by action. March, sweat, swing your swords, engulf your pain in the mindless exultation of bloodlust. But what of us? Tetisheri, your sister, myself? How may we rid ourselves of this hurting? May we hunt? Net fowls in the marshes? Swim? Eat too much? Sleep too often?” With one motion she threw back her head and drained the cup, then set it upside down on the table with a crash. “Those polite pursuits are too weak to burn away a pain that grows and grows in the heart. You are fortunate, my sons. You can kill by killing.” She rose clumsily, the stool tumbling to the floor behind her, and walked to the door. The others watched her in a dumbfounded silence. When she had gone, Tetisheri cleared her throat.

“Tani is her daughter,” she said. “She feels this more than any of us, even me. She will view it more sanely in the morning. Ahmose, take your wife to her quarters and have Raa put her to bed. Eat a spoonful of honey, Aahmes-nefertari, it will soothe you and help you to sleep. Go now.” The girl nodded and allowed her husband to assist her out of the chair. She had stopped weeping. Together they reached the door.

“May I return, Tetisheri?” Ahmose asked. She looked at him for a long time, and presently her face was lit by a slow smile.