House of Dreams (54 page)

There was a long silence. Hui, in the act of regaining his seat, paused. All expression gradually left his white face until only the wide, red eyes seemed alive. Then he lowered himself fully into the chair.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

There was another uncomfortable hesitation during which he made a pyramid with his slim fingers and rubbed them thoughtfully against his chin. I found myself near to tears as I waited for his reaction. Oh, Hui, be kind, I begged him mutely. Commiserate with me, come around the desk and hold me, tell me that you will make everything all right because you love me! But those carefully manicured fingers continued their slow movement and he went on staring at me dispassionately. At last he sighed and his hands flew apart in a gesture of bafflement.

“I had such high hopes of you, Thu,” he said flatly. “I am very disappointed. How could you let this happen?” I swallowed, crushed at his words.

“I did my best to prevent it, Master,” I replied. “I did not forget to use the acacia spikes. But the gods of the Fayum are powerful and in my fear I slighted them. What precautions can stand against such might?”

“What are you babbling about?” he cut in sharply. “You were careless, that is all. Now you must take the consequences.” His tone was cold, and I felt an anger rise with the misery in me.

“I am not at fault,” I said hotly. “Do you think I wanted to put my position at court in jeopardy? I do not need your recriminations, Hui, I need your assistance. Help me!”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” His formality, his aloofness, cut me to the quick.

“Pretend that I am your patient,” I said. “I opened my box this morning, Hui, looking for the savin oil. I could not find it. If you will not prescribe to rid me of this baby, at least give me more oil!”

“You returned the savin to me unused some time ago,” he retorted in the same vein. “It seems you are making a mess of your life, Thu. No, I will not give you more oil.” I sprang to my feet.

“Hui! You are serious? For the sake of the gods, give me the oil or treat me with something else! I will not have this baby! I would rather die!” He was around the desk in a flash, his strong hands gripping my shoulders, his face thrust close to mine. His eyes blazed.

“You stupid child!” he spat. “Savin oil is a poison! You know that! The amount needed to abort the child would probably kill you! You say you would rather die anyway but those are just foolish words!” I wrenched myself free and slapped the desk furiously.

“Why are you being so cruel? If I have no savin I will try something else. Extract of oleander! Physic seeds! Castor oil! Anything! I will not lose all I have gained just because you are afraid!” We faced each other furiously, both panting, then he pushed me back into the chair and squatted beside me. He took my hands. I tried to pull them free but his grip tightened.

“Listen to me, foolish one,” he said more calmly. “I am indeed afraid. Afraid to prescribe for you in case my physic kills you. Afraid that in your own fear you inadvertently kill yourself. You must not behave impulsively, Thu. How do you imagine I would feel if Egypt was no longer bright with your presence? Stand back from the situation and think.”

“I have been thinking,” I replied sulkily. “What difference will it make whether I make an effort to salvage my future now and die in the attempt, or fall from Pharaoh’s favour and die gradually year by year until I am removed to the ghastly harem in the Fayum?” My voice shook. “Hui, tell me what to do!” He began to stroke my hair, and as always, his touch was like a soothing oil sliding over my skin. The tenseness began to flow out of me.

“Do nothing,” he said quietly. “Just because Ramses has lost interest in his concubines before when they have born him a child does not mean that he will lose interest in you. How many times must I tell you that no one like you has ever entered the harem before? Only Ast-Amasareth comes close to exerting the influence over him that you do. A different influence, I know, but just as powerful in its way. Have faith in your ability to weather this storm, my Thu. It is indeed an upheaval but it need not be disastrous.” I leaned my head against him and closed my eyes.

“I do not want this baby, Hui,” I whispered. “But I will do as you say. You are probably right. Ramses loves me, and the gods know that I really do not want to die. When my time comes, will you be with me to deliver the child?” His hand went on moving reassuringly over my skull.

“Of course I will,” he said. “I do love you, my recalcitrant little concubine. Now tell me how it feels to own a piece of Egypt. I hear from Adiroma that your land is very fertile and will make you rich in time. And what was that nonsense about the gods of the Fayum?” So, relaxed against him, I began to speak of Pharaoh’s gift and my disgrace before Herishef and Sebek, and when I had finished he kissed me gently and sent for food which we shared in an amicable silence. Then he escorted me to the door and kissed me again.

“Keep me informed of your physical progress,” he admonished. “I am always here when you need me, Thu. And leave the poisons alone! Promise me!” I promised, but as I walked back to the harem in the stupefying heat I felt my despair return. Whatever happened, nothing would ever be the same again and I wished that I had not given Hui my word. I did not think that it would be easy to hold on to the King’s affections with a child tugging at my sheath. And deep down in my ka I knew that Hui could have helped me if he had wished.

I was able to re-enter my quarters without detection. Although the courtyard was now alive with women and children no one gave me a second look, wrapped in the cloak and soiled as I was. As I crossed the threshold, drained and footsore, and placed the basket on the floor, Disenk hurried out of the bedchamber to meet me. I sank into a chair and she thrust a scroll into my hands. “This came for you a short while ago,” she said. “It was delivered by a royal Herald I had never seen before. It carries the Prince’s imprint, Thu!” My fingers made dirty smudges on the pristine papyrus as I cracked the wax seal, and my aches were forgotten. Rapidly I scanned the contents.

“In the event of my accession to the Horus Throne I, Prince Ramses, Commander of the Infantry of Pharaoh and eldest son of the Protector of Egypt, promise to raise the Lady Thu, concubine, to the rank of Queen of Egypt, with all the privileges and rights attending such an exalted position. Signed by my own hand this second day of the month of Pakhons in the season Shemu, year sixteen of the King.” Sure enough, the Prince’s signature was scrawled across the bottom of the scroll, together with the witnesses I had asked for, Nanai, Overseer of the Sakht and priest of Set, and Pentu, Scribe of the Double House of Life.

I let the scroll roll up and lifted it to my breast. So soon! Only last night I had made my impudent demand and already it had been met! The speed, the inferred ruthlessness of the Prince’s decision, almost took my breath away. “Disenk,” I said, my voice shaking, “bring me wax and fire.” She did so, and when I had resealed the precious letter I pressed one of my rings into the soft wax. “This is my guarantee of a queen’s crown,” I told her. “Hide it. I suppose it is too difficult to lift the tiles and place it under the floor. You had better sew it into one of the cushions. Do it today, but please wash me and rub salve into my feet first. They are very tender.” Her meticulously plucked eyebrows had almost disappeared into the short, dark fringe of her hair and she took the scroll gingerly, her whole body a question.

For a moment I debated whether or not to keep her in ignorance, then decided that such secrecy would be fruitless. She already knew of my condition. In fact, Disenk knew all about me. So I spoke of my unnerving encounter with the Prince and how I had fared with Hui. When I had finished she turned to me, the scroll in one hand.

“The Master is right, Lady,” she said. “Why take the chance of ending your life so soon, when the results of your pregnancy are far from being sure? Such an act would be madness. And now you have the Prince’s assurance. In the unlikely event of Pharaoh’s rejection, the Prince will still elevate you.”

“You forget that if I am rejected by the father I cannot plead the cause of the son,” I reminded her drily. She shrugged delicately.

“It is a strong possibility that the Prince will seize power in any case upon his father’s death,” she pointed out. “He is after all the Commander of the Infantry, with complete authority over the majority of soldiers in the army. Of course he would rather achieve his aims peacefully, but he seems determined to see the Double Crown placed on his head however it may be done. You will be a queen in either event, Thu.”

“But Disenk, the King is still only forty-seven years old,” I murmured. “Suppose that he lives as long as Osiris Ramses the Second Glorified? I could be in my dotage before a queen’s crown is placed on my grey head.” Disenk shot me an odd look.

“Perhaps,” she said softly, “but perhaps not. Heed the Master’s advice, Thu. Do nothing foolish.”

She left me then, to fetch water and oils, and I slumped back in my chair. The fact of the King’s age had not occurred to me before, but now I considered the dismal possibility I had posed to my servant. I was indeed an idiot. Even if I remained in favour, even if my lover received my petition on behalf of his son and designated him Heir, I would still have to wait until Pharaoh died to become a queen.

My eyes came to rest on the little statue of Wepwawet my father had carved for me with such loving care so long ago, and I smiled at it grimly. “Well, my totem?” I whispered to him. “Divine ear and arbiter of my fate? Am I to receive the crown in the full vigour and beauty of my youth, a royal gem set upon a dazzling career, or will it be a consolation tossed to the aging tool of a Prince no longer enticed by lust and ambition? Sweet God of War, how shall this battle be fought?” Wepwawet went on smiling his enigmatic wolf’s smile and I leaned back and closed my eyes. I had always been a gambler. The gaming pieces had been rearranged, that was all. Success was still possible.

21

NEVERTHELESS, I DID NOT
want to lose Pharaoh’s love. The promise of a queen’s crown in the future was little more than the silhouette of an oasis on the far horizon. Far better to hold onto the benefits of the present. I hid the evidence of my pregnancy for as long as I could. Troubled with nausea in the mornings I was sometimes able to excuse myself from spending the whole night with the King, but there were many occasions when I lay beside him as dawn crept into the room and prayed that he would not wake to see my pallor or the cold sweat that broke over my skin as I struggled to control the urge to vomit.

I thought of Eben in those desperate moments. Had she endured the same secret torments? Or had she paraded her condition proudly before Ramses in the deluded belief that her hold on him was unbreakable? The latter, probably. I had never spoken with the favourite whose place I had usurped but she had seemed sullen and arrogant on the few occasions I had seen her. Surely she would have left a greater mark on both harem and palace if she had been a more intelligent woman!

The round of feasts, boating parties and ceremonies went on, but though I tried to throw myself into them, their allure began to pall. Each day I stood before my copper mirror, angling it and fingering my stomach, demanding of Disenk whether or not my shape was changing. I performed my exercises with the single-minded fanaticism of a temple visionary, hoping feverishly that my womb might open prematurely, but to no avail.

Day inexorably followed day, week flowing too quickly into week. Shemu marched forward, the months of Payni and Epophi slipped away and I turned sixteen. Mesore, the last month of Shemu, seemed to fly by with hostile speed and the New Year began with the frenetic celebration of the first day of Thoth. Then the population, sated and exhausted, settled down to wait for the rising of the Nile that would herald another season of flooding and sowing.

I too was anxious that Isis should cry copiously, for I was depending on a generous flood to raise a good crop on my land, but a greater worry was consuming me. My waist had thickened and I began to watch Pharaoh for any signs that he had noticed, but he was as loving and affable as ever. I did not raise the matter of the succession. I did not dare. There would be time enough for that subject later, if my royal benefactor remained my royal lover.

In the first week of Thoth Ramses discovered the truth. We were lying side by side one night with all the lamps but one extinguished because of the heat. The darkness had an almost palpable quality, smothering and breathless, and we had made love with the mindless abandon that extreme heat sometimes brings. I had broken my rule afterwards and drunk copious amounts of beer, and Ramses had gone so far as to remove the cap that was supposed to cover his skull at all times, testily ordering Paibekamun to have cool water brought. When it arrived I took over the task of washing him myself, knowing that he liked my touch and appreciated the implied homage involved.

When I had finished he surprised me by taking the cloth out of my hands and passing it gently down my arms, my back, my legs. “Majesty, you must not,” I protested. “It is the duty of a body servant.” I was standing by the couch and he glanced up at me, one of his beatific smiles lighting his chubby face. A fresh linen cap sat on his head, but wisps of greying hair stuck out around it, making him look like an amiable baboon. Once again I felt a flood of genuine love for this unassuming man, this unlikely god. He squatted there, the dripping cloth clutched in one meaty hand, and pursed his lips genially.