House of Dreams (12 page)

On the afternoon of the following day the outskirts of the most beautiful city on earth came in sight. The mighty Osiris One, Ramses the Second, had built Pi-Ramses to the east of the ancient site of Avaris where the ramshackle hovels of the poor leaned drunkenly together around the temple of Set, Ramses’ totem, and greeted the traveller from On with dust, noise and filth. I had never seen distress like this. I wanted to avert my eyes, but before I could tear my gaze away a jumbled pile of stones took its place. I learned later that it was the remains of an even older town, its name lost in antiquity. A string of trading barges obscured my view, its crew and ours exchanging coarse insults as it was forced to tack towards the shore to make way for us. Indeed, the river had become thick with craft of all kinds, each bent on appropriating the few open stretches of water, and the air was full of shouted expletives. When the traffic eased, the ruins had gone, to be replaced by the great canal Ramses had built to surround his city-palace. Here we had to wait, for the junction was choked with craft, but after much yelling and swearing a path was cleared for us. We began to drift to the right.

Now my dissatisfaction turned to awe. On our left was a vast and confusing collection of warehouses, workshops, granaries and storehouses, cacophonous with busy life. The canal had widened into a vast pool into which quays extended. Goods of every description were being loaded and unloaded. There were children everywhere, little naked half-wild beings who scampered like rats over the wares and called to each other in shrill voices.

Beyond this, the city showed another character. Gardens and orchards surrounded the white houses of minor noblemen and officials, merchants and foreign traders. The polite peace of a modest affluence permeated them.

After a while the pool narrowed again, and this time it was guarded by armed soldiers in light skiffs. Looking ahead I saw my Master’s captain answer a challenge. The skiffs drew aside and we slid through the small opening into the Lake of the Residence, Pharaoh’s private domain. There was not much to see. The southern wall of the palace was far too high to show anything of what was within, and it seemed to go on forever, finally curving away to be replaced by more impeccably groomed gardens. Here there were dazzlingly white marble watersteps against which several large craft rocked. Gold and silver glittered on their sides, their masts, their exquisitely damasked cabins, and each one flew the imperial colours of blue and white. They were Pharaoh’s own barges. Seeing the flag Hui’s vessel was flying, the guards thronging the watersteps saluted, and then we were past them and the sheltering wall came back to meet us.

When it ended, more estates began, but these were different. I could not see the houses for the walls that enclosed them. Tree branches leaned over towards the water, and the tops of stiff palms spiked against the sky. The watersteps were all of marble, and where they ended there were wide paved courts in front of the pyloned and doubtless well-watched entrances. The people who really mattered in Egypt, the Viziers and Treasurers, the Butlers and Overseers, the High Priests and Hereditary Nobles, lived here. Those people know Pharaoh, I remember thinking as Hui’s barge nosed to the bank. I will see people who speak with the Horus of Gold himself.

Servants had appeared, running across the paving to secure Hui’s barge and settle the ramp on the watersteps. Behind them a large man came slowly forth from the shadow of the entrance pylon and stood at the top of the steps. I should say glided forth, for he moved with a heavy yet graceful dignity. Everything about him was round, from his thick upper arms gripped by silver armbands to his substantial waist, to the cords of his calves. His bare skull shone. One pendant earring swung against his thick neck. His fleshy mouth was hennaed orange and the cold eyes that flickered rapidly over the mêlée developing on the watersteps were emphasized with kohl. He spoke one sharp word and my companions, who were pressing and jostling to be first on our ramp, fell back.

Hui emerged from the cabin of his barge. As always when in public he was invisible beneath his white shroud. Striding the ramp and mounting the watersteps he received the big man’s short bow and together they walked across the paving, in under the small pylon, and were lost to sight. Kenna and a few of the servants from the house went next, and then there was a concerted rush from the second barge. I found myself swept along with the crowd, off the barge, onto the stone that was hot beneath my bare feet, and through the entrance. The friends of my voyage scattered, obviously glad to be home, and I was alone.

I could hear the activity still going on behind me. The barges were being unloaded. But I stood in my grubby, now tattered sheath, feeling lost and out of place. Two paths ran out from where I stood. One went to the right, plunging under trees towards a wall glimpsed through the foliage. I presumed that it led to servants’ quarters, for the people had disappeared along it. The other went straight ahead. All around me trees, shrubs and palms were densely massed, obscuring my view. Flower beds were laid out neatly beside the walkway. I was tempted to follow the faces that I knew, to seek reassurance, but mutinously decided that, seeing no one had told me where to go, I should go where I pleased.

I set off along the central path and soon came to an open area with seats and a fountain that splashed its water into a large circular basin. To left and right the path diverged and on both sides were thorn hedges. Rather timidly I peered over one to find myself looking at a fishpond. Lotus pads floated on its quiet surface and an old sycamore cast its shade on the verge. The other hedge completely enclosed a pool that must be used for swimming, for a small curtained hut had been built at one end and someone had left a linen tunic and an empty cup on its stone edge. Skirting the fountain I continued on. The path took me past a kiosk, a small shrine in which there was a stone offering table, hollowed at one end, and an exquisite statue of ibis-headed Thoth whose tiny black-painted eye stared back at me. I bowed to him as I passed.

Then the trees thinned and I came to a gate before a wide, paved courtyard. The house was before me, its entrance pillars painted white and resplendently embellished with the likenesses of exotic birds and vines that curled up to meet the roof. I could see the rest of the sheltering wall now, running high and forbidding behind more trees to either side of the house and behind it. Set in the wall to the right was a double door that must also lead to a servants’ domain—kitchens and granaries probably, and perhaps stables, though I did not think that Hui would like to drive a chariot. Once more I hesitated. Should I march up to the entrance hall and announce my presence? I could dimly see a guard, or perhaps a doorkeeper, sitting on a stool beyond one of the pillars. For a moment I toyed with the idea of making my way home again and having done with all this ignominy. How could Hui have forgotten me, after our vital conversations? Well, they were vital to me anyway.

I retraced my steps, enjoying the cool, dappled shade of the little forest, the green silence in which I moved. Arriving at the fountain I went through the thorn hedge to the pool and settled myself beside its clear depths. I was thirsty and afraid, but I made myself remember my prayer to Wepwawet and how it was answered. The thought consoled me. I could always walk into the markets of Pi-Ramses and hire myself out as a domestic servant. My mother had taught me the value of cleanliness. My services would go to one of the rich merchants whose homes I had admired, and he would have a son. I would be scrubbing the paving before his door and the son would emerge, darkly handsome, lonely. I would glance up and he would see, for the first time, my blue eyes. He would be intrigued, then obsessed. His father would rage, his mother cry, but a wedding contract would follow … So I dreamed, nervous and adrift, while the glinting water netted the sunlight and a curious cat came stalking out of the hedge to sit in the shade and watch me with its unblinking, myopic stare.

A long time afterwards, when my fantasy had run its course and I knew I must do something, a man came hurrying from the other side of the clearing. I rose as he approached me red-faced and out of breath.

“Are you Thu?” he panted. I nodded warily. “Oh, thank the gods!” he exclaimed. “Where have you been? I was sent to find you an hour ago. I thought you might be with the other servants so I’ve turned the compound upside down.” He glanced around the pool. “You are not supposed to be here unless on the Master’s business,” he reproved me mildly. “These gardens are for the family only. Follow me.”

“Family?” I echoed as I trotted to catch up with him. “Hui has a family?”

“Well of course he does,” the man replied irritably. “His mother and father are retired to their acres outside On. If you want to know more you must ask him yourself and take the consequences. Servants are never allowed to question their betters unless it has to do with their duties. He does not encourage gossip. You really are a provincial, aren’t you?”

That closed my mouth, although I burned with questions. I had thought of the Master as a creature of lofty aloneness, self-sufficient, almost self-generating. But a family? Were they all monsters? The servant had taken a path that ran between the outer wall of the estate and the trees and we had to angle across the blinding expanse of the courtyard to reach the entrance. The doorkeeper on his stool did not acknowledge us.

A short way in under the pillars a huge room opened out. It was dim and cool after the furnace of the outer court. Light poured down in brilliant shafts from several thin windows high under the ceiling. More white pillars were spaced across the gleaming, tiled floor. The furniture was sparse and elegant, a few cedar chairs inlaid with gold and ivory, low tables topped with blue and green faience work, but the walls were alive with scenes of feasting. I had no chance to examine them then. I padded after my escort, whose own sandals slapped busily as he strode. A group of men were clustered beside one of the pillars. Hui was one of them. I could not be sure that he saw me but if he did he made no sign. His hooded head turned and then turned back.

At the far end of the hall and immediately to my left, beyond the wide double doors that stood open, a flight of stairs rose steeply. To my right were other rooms whose doors were firmly closed and between them a guard sat. Ahead was a passage running away to left and right and directly in front of me, twenty steps away, a square doorway led onto a terrace and more gardens before the wall loomed.

But my attention was fixed at once on the man who was rising from behind a desk by the stairs. It was as though a small mountain had chosen to move, for it was the person I had seen above the watersteps. He had been impressive then. He was terrifying now. Unsmilingly he looked down on me, inspecting me from head to dusty toes with those impassive black eyes, then he folded his great arms across his barrel chest and sighed. The earring quivered gently against one pouched cheek. “Go,” he ordered the servant with me. The man bowed and disappeared along the passage. “So,” he went on resignedly. “You are Thu. You are also a nuisance. This is an efficiently run household, and you are no longer free to go where you please when you want. I have been instructed as to your status and handling by the Master, therefore do not complain about any order you may receive. If you have questions you will put them to me or to Disenk. You will not approach the Master under any circumstances unless he sends for you. Do you understand?” I nodded vigorously. His voice was a rumble of threatening power. “Good,” he continued. “Follow me.”

He moved with surprising agility to the foot of the stairs and began to mount, his kilt swaying gently about his oddly delicate ankles. Meekly I did as I was told. He had not introduced himself. I supposed I was too much of a nonentity for him to bother. At the top of the stairs there was a dark passage flanked by many doors. He led me almost to the end before opening one of them and gesturing me inside. I blinked. The room was full of sunlight that cascaded through the large window ahead of me. There was a couch of wood, draped in fine linens and cushions. Beside it was a table on which stood an alabaster lamp. Two chairs were arranged haphazardly by the window. A huge feathered fan was propped against one wall. A pair of matching chests also hugged the wall, large, handsome things with bronze fittings. A woman stood in the middle of all this luxury. Slight and tiny, dressed in a spotless but plain sheath, her hair tied high with a red ribbon, she smiled at me and bowed to my companion. “Disenk, this is Thu,” he said brusquely. “You can begin by giving her a bath. Scrape off some of that Aswat muck and pluck her eyebrows.” He did not wait for an answer. The door closed firmly behind him.

Disenk and I eyed one another through the sun-soaked air. She was still smiling, her hands behind her back, expectancy on her little face. I did not yet understand that a conversation was usually opened by the person of highest rank in a room so I too waited, nonplussed, then to cover my confusion I wandered over to the window and looked out. I was directly above the entrance, and below me one of the men I had seen in the hall was just getting onto a litter. He twitched the curtains closed and the four slaves in attendance lifted it and set off towards the gate and the trees. I decided to speak. “Who is the big man who brought me up here?” I asked. “He told me that if I have any questions I am to put them to him, or to you.”

“That is Harshira, the Master’s Steward,” she answered readily. “He is responsible for the running of the household and the keeping of all the Master’s accounts. His word is law.”

“Oh.” I turned back into the room a little shyly. “Where are my things, Disenk? My basket and my box?” She went at once to one of the chests and lifted the lid.

“They are here, safe. The Master forgets nothing. Would you like to bathe?” She was being polite. The Steward had already commanded her to give me a bath. As if my swim in the Nile every evening was not enough!

“Not really,” I said, “but I will if I must. What I want is to be told where I am to sleep. And I want a drink.” A small frown creased her unlined brow. She gestured broadly.