House of Illusions (28 page)

“We are all in acute distress over Kamen’s disappearance,” I replied. “This news is horrifying. Has Nesiamun acquainted the city authorities?”

“He did so at once,” the man said. “He has also sent a message to his friend the General Paiis, who has promised to mobilize all his soldiers in the search for the Lady Takhuru.” I fought against the urge to meet Pa-Bast’s eye.

“Then there is nothing more to be done,” Pa-Bast said. “Tell your Master that the noble Men will send to him as soon as he returns.” The man bowed and walked out into the darkness. Pa-Bast turned to me.

“Pray that Men comes home early,” he said grimly. “Otherwise there will be a disaster.”

I managed very little sleep that night, only drifting into an uneasy doze as the sun lipped the horizon, and I went about my business in the morning with an aching head and a sense of doom. Upstairs the house was very quiet. Either Kamen and Takhuru were still in bed or they had decided to be as invisible as possible. The hour of the noon meal came and went. I picked uninterestedly at a few figs and some goat cheese but drank a cup of wine, hoping that it would cure the hammer thudding in my brain. I went out into the garden and talked with the head gardener who was polite but did not really want to be interrupted. I stood on the slab in the bath house and doused myself repeatedly with cold water, but nothing dispelled the sickness in my head or the cringing of my ka.

In the late afternoon four of Paiis’s soldiers appeared. I heard them arguing with Pa-Bast as, draped in linen and still dripping with water, I was about to make my way across the hall to the stairs. I paused in the concealment of the doorway and listened. “You will have to come back tomorrow when the Master is here,” Pa-Bast was saying firmly. “I have no authority to allow such a thing.”

“We take our orders from the General and he from the Prince,” the officer in charge retorted. “Those orders are to search all the houses between the palace and the neck of the Lake. If you do not obey, you will be subject to discipline from His Highness. You must step aside, Steward.” Pa-Bast drew himself up.

“If your orders originate in the palace, then show me the scroll with the Prince’s seal,” Pa-Bast insisted. “The General surely gave you written orders signed by His Highness. No noble living in this district is going to let you ransack his estate on your word alone.” The man’s face darkened.

“Perhaps you do not understand,” he said. “These people are clever and dangerous criminals. They could be hiding anywhere in these precincts without your knowledge.”

“No, they could not,” Pa-Bast disagreed. “This is a modest household with few servants. I am the Steward. I inspect the servants’ quarters every day. No stranger hides here.” I closed my eyes. Oh do not allow yourself to be trapped by the detour of argument, I prayed silently to my friend. Stand on the first matter of the scroll of authority.

“We must make sure,” the officer pressed. “We have been to three of the noble Men’s neighbours. No one else has refused us, indeed they have been eager to do their duty.”

“My Master is not at home.” Pa-Bast’s voice had risen. “Therefore the decision to let you in is not mine to make without written orders from the palace. Show them to me and you may enter. Otherwise go away.” He turned on his heel and began to cross the hall, moving with the upright carriage and slow grace of his authority. His face was flushed with annoyance but his uncertainty was betrayed in the way his bottom lip was trapped between his tongue and his lower teeth. He knew, and so did I, that if the soldiers forced their way in there would be nothing we could do to stop them. Men did not employ guards. But the bluff worked. After a moment’s hesitation the officer barked a short command to his underlings and they left. Light once more flowed unimpeded across the floor. I let out a quavering breath and continued on my way.

An hour or so later another soldier darkened the door, this time one of Nesiamun’s retainers come to enquire once more for any new information we might have on Takhuru’s whereabouts. Again Pa-Bast was forced to lie. He was angry, not with the poor man who was obviously as distressed as Nesiamun must be, but with the circumstances that had driven him into a predicament that was untenable for any good Steward. It was only a matter of time before the city was scoured by the regular police for the woman of Aswat who had broken the terms of her exile, and I could only hope that they made their way to this door after Men was back in residence. What if our master decided to stay on in the Fayum to link up with his caravan on its return journey? I shuddered at the thought.

But I need not have worried. An hour after sunset a roar broke the peaceful tenor of the house and the hall exploded in a flurry of noisy activity. “Pa-Bast! Kaha! Kamen where are you? Come out! We are home!” As I made for the stairs, passing Kamen’s door as it began to open, I heard Shesira’s placatory tones.

“Don’t shout at them, Men. They will know we’re here. Tamit, take the cat to the kitchen at once and then come back and wash before we eat. Mutemheb, have the servants take the clothes and cosmetic boxes upstairs. They can leave the rest down here until they’ve gone to their quarters and eaten something. Kamen! My darling! Gods, have you always been so tall?”

I knew that Men would go straight to the office to be brought up to date on his business affairs before he relaxed enough to eat, but in the moment before he called me to the office door, as I reached the bottom step and looked out on the cheerful chaos of their arrival, Kamen pushed past me and took his elder sister by the arm. He whispered something in her ear, warning her, I suppose, that his mother’s room had been occupied. I hoped that he had had the presence of mind to hustle Takhuru into his room for now. She nodded, smiled at him, kissed him, and turned to the servants struggling with a mountain of chests and boxes.

Shesira waited with arms spread wide. “My beautiful son!” she sang. “Come and embrace me! Paiis is working you too hard. Either that or you are spending too many of your nights in the beer house. You look haggard. How is Takhuru?” I saw Kamen hesitate and I knew immediately what was passing through his mind. A comparison, unbidden but intense, between this soft and lovely woman brimming with the confidence of her station, and the stranger with the murky but exotic past who had consumed his emotions and capsized all the verities of his life. He moved towards her, suffered her eager grasp, then extricated himself in order to kiss her painted temple where the greying hair waved back.

“I look tired, Mother, that is all,” he said. “Tell me, have you had a good rest? How are things in the Fayum? What will Father plant there this year?”

“I have no idea,” she replied. “He and the Overseer tramped about and frowned and consulted. I want him to enlarge the house down there. It’s so small you know, far too small for family gatherings when you and Takhuru produce grandchildren for me. The fountain in the garden is in a state of disrepair too, but your father keeps putting off the simple task of hiring a stonemason. Still,” and here she favoured him with another wide smile that showed her even teeth, “it is a blessed place and I like to go there. Mutemheb has begun to fret at the days of idleness and it is always a struggle to persuade Tamit to continue with her lessons while we are away.”

“Tamit will make a gentle wife and little more,” Kamen remarked to her. “She is a good child, content and unambitious. Do not nag her too much, Mother.” Her kohled eyes roved over his face.

“You are troubled, Kamen,” she said in a low voice. “I can tell that all is not well with you. I am tired, hungry and in need of a bath, but come to me later this evening. Kaha! There you are! Tomorrow I want to take a complete inventory of all our household effects with you and Pa-Bast. Tybi is almost upon us and we always have the annual task completed by the Feast of the Coronation of Horus.” She gave a sigh of happiness. “I do love coming home!” I bowed to her, and at that moment Men summoned me sharply over the heads of the servants still bringing in a stream of belongings. I had grabbed up my palette before coming downstairs. Clutching it tightly, I threaded my way through the commotion, and we entered the relative serenity of the office. Kamen followed me.

Men cast the customary critical eye over his holiest of holiest. His eyes crinkled as he bade us sit, Kamen on the chair and I in my correct place cross-legged on the floor beside him. “Well?” he said, lowering himself behind the desk with obvious satisfaction. “Is there anything important to go over before we eat, Kaha? Has word come back from the caravan yet? Kamen, are you in better humour than when I left?” Kamen gestured to me. Quickly I made my report. Men listened carefully, grunting occasionally, sometimes waving a hand dismissively to indicate that I might move on to something else.

“I have brought back the reports of my Overseer in the Fayum with regard to the crops I wish to sow and the projected yields based on the height of this year’s flood,” he said. “You can transcribe them into permanent record tomorrow. Shesira has been plaguing me about that fountain. Find a reputable stonemason, will you, Kaha, and send him south to fix it. Though I would rather tear it out and have a fishpond dug. The flies are bad in the Fayum. You can also write to the Seer and tell him that the herbs he has requested should arrive with the caravan. He will have to be patient. Anything else?” I looked up at Kamen. His arms were folded and he was swallowing as though he had a bone stuck in his throat.

“Yes there is, Father,” he said, “but I think you should at least bathe and eat before you hear it.”

“Serious is it?” Men’s bushy eyebrows rose. “I would rather hear it now and then enjoy my food. Has Paiis dismissed you?”

“No.” Kamen hesitated. Then he unlocked his arms and rose. Going to a shelf, he lifted down the small ornate chest in which Men kept his private documents. He placed it on the desk and leaned over it. “It is about the scroll in here,” he said, “but I do not know where to begin. Takhuru is here, Father.”

“What, here? In this house? Why didn’t you bring her to greet us, Kamen? Will she stay and eat this evening?”

“No, she spent the night in mother’s quarters. Her life is threatened. So is mine. Paiis is hunting us. We …” Men held up a warning hand.

“Sit down,” he ordered. “Kaha, go and bring Takhuru downstairs and then find Pa-Bast and tell him not to serve the meal until I say so. But he can bring a jug of wine in here immediately.”

“Kaha must be present,” Kamen said. “He is a part of it all.” Men stared at him.

“My scribe? My servant? Has this house gone mad while I’ve been away? Kaha, do as you are told.” I came to my feet, bowed, and left the room.

Takhuru was waiting quietly by Kamen’s couch and together we went down. Fortunately we met no one. I could hear the voices of the women and the splash of water come echoing from the bath house. Knocking on the office door and opening it for the girl, I went in search of Pa-bast, and I returned to the office bringing the wine myself.

Kamen was speaking steadily, telling the story I knew so well. He had given the chair to Takhuru who sat rigidly, her face pale. Before I folded onto the floor in my usual place, I poured the wine. Men drank it at once and held out his cup to be refilled. His eyes did not leave Kamen as the young man paced. By the time Kamen fell silent and came to a halt before his father, the jug was empty.

For a long time Men said nothing. His hands were clasped on the desk, his face vacant, but I knew he was thinking quickly and deeply. Then he passed a palm over his bald pate in one slow, familiar gesture and sighed. “If it were not for the fact that I know your true parentage well, I would say that this story is the most ridiculous I have ever heard,” he said heavily. “The General is an able and well-respected man without a slur to his name. Moreover, he is your father’s good friend, Takhuru. The Seer treats the illnesses of the royal family, apart from being Egypt’s greatest visionary. You are talking about two of the country’s most influential men. What proof do you have that the Aswat woman has not fabricated the whole matter out of her madness?” Kamen pointed to me.

“Kaha spent several years in the Seer’s employ. He was a part of the plot to use my mother against Pharaoh. Tell him, Kaha.” At my employer’s nod I did so as succinctly as I could.

“I have kept the knowledge to myself for a long time,” I said finally. “I have not betrayed my former Master until now.” It was a lame attempt to remind Men that as a scribe I could be trusted, but I do not think he heard my last words. He was frowning, his fingernails rattling against his cup.

“It is still not enough to take to the Prince,” he said. “That is what you want me to do, isn’t it? Go to the palace? But even if Ramses would consent to grant me a private audience, I could do nothing more than fill his ears with an unsubstantiated tale.” Kamen leaned over the desk and I glimpsed Takhuru’s agitated face framed briefly in the curve between his body and his arms.

“There is evidence,” he said emphatically. “Under the floor of my mother’s hut in Aswat. The body of the assassin I killed.”

Men sat back. His mouth had thinned to a grim line. “You all realize that if there is some other more plausible explanation put forward, we will be in serious trouble,” he said. “My Lady Takhuru. Have you anything to add?” The girl stirred.

“No,” she whispered. “But I trust Kamen and I have spent some time listening to his mother. Also Paiis and his soldiers came to my house today. The General sent more soldiers here this afternoon. I beg you to help us, Noble Men.” He glanced at her and then suddenly his face creased in a smile. He prodded me with his foot.

“Go and fetch Pa-Bast,” he ordered. “Have you been recording this conversation on your papyrus, Kaha?” I rose and placed my palette on the desk.

“No,” I said.

“Good. Be quick.”

Pa-Bast was in the dining room talking with the cluster of servants. He came at my bidding, an enquiry in his eyes, but there was no time to tell him what had passed. Men got up from behind the desk as we entered. “It is obvious that you also have been seduced by this fantastic story, Pa-Bast,” he said. “It seems that the world I knew has changed while I have been away. Go at once to the house of Nesiamun and ask him to come here. Do not send someone else. Go yourself. Tell him that I have returned and I need to see him urgently on the matter of his daughter’s disappearance. Meanwhile we will eat.” He clapped his hands. The Steward bowed himself out, and by the time we left the office he had gone.