House of Dreams (45 page)

“There was no Ukhedu,” I retorted, stung. “How do you know what treatment I applied, Hui?” He gave me a swift glance, his hands busy. I sighed. “Oh, of course. Paibekamun. And does the Butler also report to you on my sexual exploits with the King? Does he tell you how many times Ramses achieves satisfaction in one night?” Hui shook his head.

“No. Those things you will tell me yourself if all is not well in Pharaoh’s bed and you need my advice. But you must not lose favour with Ramses, and therefore your behaviour as his physician is vitally important. Gods, Thu! Your supply of ground acacia spikes is completely gone! Are you concocting contraceptives for the entire harem?”

“No. For a few women only.” I faltered briefly. “Most of the ground acacia I use myself.” He made no comment as he refilled and stoppered the containers for my box.

“Do you continue to exercise regularly?” he enquired. “Take care what you eat and drink? Have Disenk prepare all your food and taste what she cannot control?” I thought of Ast-Amasareth and nodded, telling him of my uncomfortable visit with the Chief Wife. He listened carefully, and by the time I had finished speaking he had completed his task. We left the office, with regret on my part, and Hui poured wine for us in the outer office as we settled into chairs.

“If she cannot frighten you she will attempt to control your relationship with Ramses,” he told me. “Let her think that she does so. How is our Divine Ruler? Desperately in love with you yet?” I felt a pang of guilty loyalty to the King at Hui’s cynical tone, seeing Ramses’ warm brown eyes as he clutched my hand and professed his love for me, but I pushed the emotion away and answered the question readily enough. Hui watched me, a smile spreading slowly over his face. “You are doing well,” he praised me. “I am very proud of you, my Thu.”

I was beginning to feel restless, why I was not sure. Hui’s questions, his intense interest in my answers, made me both impatient and resentful. It all seemed rather petty, and I wanted to tell him that I did not much care any more what Egypt’s fate might be but I dared not.

“It is ridiculous to believe that I can have any political influence on him even though he is besotted with me,” I said cautiously. “I may be spending most of my time in his private quarters but I am not sufficiently important to be present at any formal receptions or foreign negotiations. I have only the vaguest idea of what is truly happening in the offices of the ministers. I have heard Ramses and his son argue over the King’s internal policies and I am convinced that Pharaoh will never be swayed.” I sat straight and put my cup back on the desk. “After all, Hui, if he will not listen to his own son, why would he listen to a concubine, no matter how fetching?”

“Because this concubine is different,” Hui said firmly. “She is clever, she will last, and the longer she lasts the more tightly she may wind her cunning fingers around his heart and mind. It is not impossible, Thu.” He folded his arms and leaned towards me. “Pharaoh’s trading envoys will soon be returning from the far reaches of the Great Green. When their cargo has been tallied the Generals will approach the King to request an increase in the wages of their soldiers. Try to persuade Ramses to be generous. The priests will be clamouring for more than their share and bleating of a show of gratitude to the gods on the part of the Throne for a successful mission. Do what you can to keep the goods from them.” I met Hui’s narrowed red gaze.

“You serve no god at all, do you, Hui?” I said softly. “You do not use your Seeing gift for any of them, do you, nor do you regard any god as the source of your mystery. Whom do you worship then? Yourself? Where does your heart really lie?” His eyes became slits.

“I do not answer such questions,” he almost whispered. “I see that the crude child I picked out of the dirt of Aswat has become a complex woman. Join hands with me in this, Thu. The rewards will be enormous.” I felt suddenly cold.

“For Egypt or for you?” I choked out. Abruptly he relaxed and the intensity went out of his stare.

“For both,” he said briskly. “What monster have you suddenly taken me for, impudent one? Has the stifling air of the harem, rife with gossip and rumour, tainted your brain?”

“What does the Seeing tell you of the future, Hui?” I persisted. “Or does it show you merely dreams?” He sat breathing heavily for a moment, biting his hennaed lip, then his face cleared. He smiled.

“What it shows me for myself is mine alone. If I read for Pharaoh it is his alone. Do what you can, Thu. I do not ask for more. I certainly do not expect you to sacrifice yourself on the altar of Egypt’s health. Enjoy the King. Enjoy what he offers. Why not?” He rose and poured more wine for me, turning his head to speak almost directly into my face. I was painfully aware of his closeness, his lips moving inches from mine. “And I hear that he has offered you land. Yes? A wise request, that. Good for you. My Land Surveyor, Adiroma, does much work for the harem women as well. When you have the deed in your hands, send for him. He is honest. If you wish it, my Overseer can take charge of whatever crop or herd you want to own. He will assure you of a profit.”

“Thank you, Hui,” was all I could manage. He withdrew and I gulped at the wine.

“Now,” said my Master. “Let us take a walk in the garden, and you can give me all the harem news. Tonight there will be a feast here in your honour. Meantime I have you all to myself.” I took his proffered arm and we left the office. As we ambled along the passage towards the rear doors that stood open, I reflected fatalistically that there was probably very little harem news that he did not know already.

That evening I entered Hui’s dining hall to find them all there, the men I remembered from a similar feast in the same place so long ago. They broke off their conversation under the muted twanging of the Master’s harpist and saluted me: Paibekamun as taciturn as ever; Mersura the Chancellor with an arrogant lift of his smooth eyebrows; Panauk the Royal Scribe of the Harem, a man I had glimpsed once in Amunnakht’s office and who had greeted me brightly but absently; Pentu, Scribe of the Double House of Life who doubtless spent his days closeted in the temple guarding and studying the precious tomes; and Hui’s brother, General Paiis, who left his cushions to kiss first my hands, each one with deliberate passion, then my hennaed mouth with thorough expertise. “And that is the closest I will ever come to Paradise,” he sighed, eyes twinkling, as he retired to his place. “How are you, my beauty?” I did not know whether to be offended or amused by the licence he took, answering him lightly as I sank down beside Hui. I was very aware of Paibekamun’s dark gaze on me and found myself suddenly missing General Banemus’s open, friendly face. Hui snapped his fingers and the first course was carried in. Conversation was desultory and general as the company ate and the wine was poured. I took my part with ease, no longer shy, smiling and chatting, humming sometimes to the harp music, but after the guests’ hunger had been appeased, the tone of the gathering changed. It happened gradually, so that for a while I did not notice it. Polite questions became sharper, more pointed, the silences less congenial, and I realized that I was being examined.

The men began by asking for the details of Pharaoh’s accident and my treatment, a natural curiosity tinged with what I presumed was the anxiety all courtiers had felt and of which Prince Ramses had spoken so bitterly. I answered readily enough, but then the questions veered into puzzling avenues. Was I happy in the harem? Had I made any friends there among the other women? Among the servants and guards? Were the other women content? What were their concerns? Prince Ramses was an admirable man, was he not? How well did I know him? Had I met his wife? The queries were not fired at me rudely. They came casually and I answered them lightly, but there was an underlying current of intensity to them that made me increasingly uncomfortable. I did my best to turn the conversation, but after a brief digression it always arrowed back to their strange preoccupation. I could not put my finger on just what that was, but the fact that they seemed to know made me all the more uneasy.

Hui remained silent, toying with his cup. I felt his attention on me, unobtrusive but constant, and all at once, for some reason, I was sickeningly reminded of Kenna. The memory of his death and the part I had played in it had faded until he had not come to my mind either waking or dreaming for months, yet now I seemed to feel his clammy flesh limp against me as he gasped out his life and I caught a phantom whiff of his polluted breath. My wine tasted sour and I put it down with a grimace of distaste. At once Hui stirred and Paiis spoke up.

“You must forgive us our rough male inquisitiveness,” he said easily. “The harem is a mystery to us although Panauk works there. Hui! Tell your man to play something livelier! If we cannot have dancers we can at least sing!” It was a clumsy ploy that I dismissed. Those questions swirled in my head as the men burst into the song the harpist had obligingly begun. I noticed that Paibekamun did not join in. He reclined on his cushions, his features in shadow, his body motionless. I realized then that he made me afraid.

Soon afterwards the party broke up, and this time I was among the guests who stood beneath the entrance pillars, looking out over the shrouded courtyard while we waited for our litters. Harshira summoned them and then helped us, one by one, inside. Paiis offered, half-jokingly, to accompany me back to the palace, but I declined in the same mood, pride filling me as I told him of the skiff rocking at anchor, waiting for me. He bowed to me goodnaturedly and scrambled inside his litter. The others took their leave of me cordially enough. Hui enveloped me in his strong embrace. “Stay well, little sister,” he said, his alien eyes warm. “I shall be in the palace next week to attend the King’s mother, and will see you then. Greet Hunro for me. Paiis has had a message from Banemus so you may tell her that he is well.”

For some reason I did not want to remain in his arms. I extricated myself quickly, bid him a good night, thanked Harshira, and got into my litter with relief, inviting a sleepy Disenk to join me. The path was dark and secret, shadows and rustlings coming to me out of the moon shadows as the litter slowly passed the trees that seemed to lean together and whisper maliciously about me. I was not sorry to see the faint gleams of light from the lamp bobbing on the prow of my craft come fitfully through the branches and I hurried up the ramp. It was as though the ghost of Kenna had been watching my progress and was even now gliding after me balefully.

The short journey back to the palace confines on a peaceful, starlit Lake was uneventful and Disenk and I were carried to the entrance of my empty courtyard through a mildly scented, cool night. Our footfalls echoed on the strip of paving fronting the cells and I imagined Kenna hovering in the blackness of my doorway, waiting to spring at me as I walked in. I shook myself mentally, annoyed at the uncharacteristic fancy. The soft sounds within came from a sleeping Hunro, and by the time Disenk had lit a candle and prepared me for bed I had forgotten my sudden and illogical fear.

But that night I dreamed that I was kneeling in the desert, under the burning heat of a sun that stood directly overhead. My face was pressed into the sand, which stuck to my lips and clung to my nostrils. Sweat was pouring from my straining back, and my naked shoulders had begun to blister. Fear was holding me down, mingling with the sun’s implacable rays and pressing upon me, forcing its way into my skin and flowing towards my heart, which was pounding erratically. I tried to raise my head but the terror intensified, an inexorable and brutal energy that kept me pinned to the unforgiving earth.

I woke with a shriek and flung myself upright, one hand flying to my chest where my heart was still leaping painfully. My sheets were drenched with my perspiration and I was shaking. The night was still. Hunro sighed and turned over but did not wake. Outside an owl cried once. I was afraid to close my eyes. “Come to me, come to me, my mother Isis,” I whispered into the dimness. “Behold, I am seeing what is far from my city.” The words of the old spell against evil omens tumbled fresh from my tongue as though I had learned them yesterday, for I knew the meaning of the dream and it was horrifying.

The dead wanted something. The dead were speaking to me. I had no bread, or beer with which to moisten the herbs that should have accompanied my petition, but as I breathed it over and over, it brought a slowly growing calm until my heart regained its regular rhythm and my body loosened. I had been thinking of Kenna, that was all, I told myself as I prepared once more for sleep. The gods know I did not mean to kill him, therefore he cannot want anything from me. I closed my eyes, but unconsciousness did not return for a very long time.

In the morning I made my way to Ramses’ private quarters without being invited, for I was still watching the progress of his wounds and went as his physician. The dream remained with me, an uneasiness that lingered even though the palace was alive with bustle and cheerfulness. I found Pharaoh dressed and shouting at Paibekamun who was trying to persuade him to accept a walking stick.

“I know perfectly well what it says!” he was yelling furiously as I prostrated myself and then approached. Neither man took any notice of me. “It is an inscription for the old and decrepit who hobble about mumbling to themselves! ‘Come, my stick,’” he recited with biting scorn, “‘So that I might lean on you and follow the Beautiful West, that my heart may wander in the Place of Truth.’ Well I have no intention of following the Beautiful West just yet, Paibekamun, nor does my heart want to wander in the Place of Truth. Take it away!”

At the mention of a heart in the Place of Truth my own heart gave an unpleasant heave and my dream rushed upon me in all its horror, only to vanish. I walked forward. “Ah, Thu,” Ramses exclaimed, his face clearing. “I do not need a walking stick, do I? I cannot be seen to stumble into the reception hall leaning on such a thing! The foreigners must not see the God of Egypt walking like a lame beggar!” He slumped into a chair while I knelt and gently probed his thigh.