Seer of Egypt (55 page)

Huy suppressed the moment of guilt.
I am not strong enough,
he thought as Thothhotep walked across the office floor and slid Heby’s scroll into the niche holding the pile of his previous correspondence.
Thothmes will understand.

“Master, do you wish me to make a note of Governor Sennefer’s position as Commander of the Division of Set for your future reference?” Thothhotep inquired.

Her use of Sennefer’s administrative title gave Huy a jolt.
Why, of course he’s a Governor now. Governor of the small Nart-Pehu sepat, a little southeast of Ta-she. How did he end up as a military commander, seeing that my inadvertent vision for him when I met him again at the temple school in Khmun was of his death in battle? He sneered at my peasant roots and bullied me unmercifully in and out of class at Iunu. His personality is perfectly suited to life as a soldier. Perhaps he convinced himself that my gift is false, that I am a proficient liar, so that he could enter the army. Or perhaps the Osiris-King Thothmes the Third decreed officer status for him as a compensation for removing his right to carry the throwing stick, the hunting weapon only the nobility may use, after his attack on me. When did his father die? I don’t know. But when he did, Sennefer would have been forced to take up his father’s governorship. Now our new ruler goes to war and needs all his commanders. Sennefer will die, I know it. Does he? Does he remember the day I grasped his arm and saw him slumped across a chariot’s rail, gasping out his life?

“Master?” Thothhotep said, and Huy came to himself.

“No, don’t bother,” he replied. “It would be a waste of good papyrus.”

Six months later, when Epophi, the first of the two harvest months, was over, the King came marching triumphantly home. Again he bypassed Hut-herib without visiting Huy, who knew nothing about Thothmes’ campaign, and indeed could not have cared less. A letter arrived from the Princess, now Queen, Mutemwia. Huy welcomed it.

He had marked the day of Anuket’s funeral three months previously in Pharmuthi by offering on Khentikheti’s altar one of the precious gifts she had given him. On his fourteenth Naming Day she had gently removed the one earring he had owned and replaced it with one made of red jasper and pale yellow-green moonstone teardrops held in golden claws. “The jasper is for the redness of your blood, warm and healthy with youth,” she had told him, “and the moonstone is for your gift. The moon belongs to Thoth.” He had worn it on special occasions, but when he had left Iunu he had wrapped it in linen and put it in one of the compartments of the cedar box his uncle Ker had given him years before. Now he laid it carefully at the feet of the benignly smiling wolf-god with a prayer for Anuket’s ka, embraced Methen, and hurried back to his estate.

For his fifteenth Naming Day, Anuket had given him a pair of calfskin gloves to protect his hands while driving a chariot, and once she had bathed and dressed a cat’s scratch and insisted that he accept an ointment in a delicate little blue faience bottle. These things had also ended up in the cedar box, where they remained, for Huy could not bear to take them out and handle them after he fled the temple school. There was no need to preserve them now. The remains of the ointment had dried and crusted inside the bottle. Huy told Tetiankh to clean it out and then use it for kohl powder. Although he had become proficient at handling a chariot, he had not driven one since returning to Hut-herib. Still, he gave the gloves to his under steward Amunmose with instructions to oil and store them against a day when they might be of some use. These actions served to relegate the ache of his memories to the night hours when he woke and could not sleep again. Otherwise he could think of her without distress.

The Queen’s letter was full of news. “I shall send my son to you at the beginning of Paophi, with a gift for your forty-second Naming Day on the ninth,” she wrote in her own unsteady hand.

Here Thothhotep’s carefully modulated voice ceased. She glanced across at Huy, who was sitting on the edge of his desk.

“Yes, it’s an overwhelming responsibility,” Huy answered her unspoken comment. “I wonder if she will tell her husband where his princeling has gone. I don’t think so. I knew nothing of the deaths in the harem at Mennofer. Did you?”

Thothhotep shook her head. “The Queen does not mention the names of any of the children of the nobles. Did more than the seed of Pharaoh die? Surely so! I suppose that only the royal offspring are of any interest to her. I shall continue reading. ‘The Good God has commissioned the striking of a scarab to commemorate his victories in the east.’” Thothhotep was frowning and peering at the scroll in an effort to interpret Mutemwia’s scrawl. “‘It will read thus:
The Chiefs of Naharin bearing their revenue see Menkheperura proceeding from his house. They hear his voice like the son of Nut, his bow being in his hand like the son of Shu’s successors. When he goes into battle, Aten being before him, he destroys the mountain countries, trampling the desert countries, treading to Naharin and to Karoy to ensure that the inhabitants of foreign countries are subjects to the rule of the Aten forever.
He has also ordered the twelve enemy tribes of Egypt listed on his new chariot, six from the east and six from the south. As for Mitanni, when the King reached Naharin, Artatama sent envoys to him bearing much purple gold and thus he did not enter Mitanni. Your old enemy Governor Sennefer was killed in a skirmish with tribesmen in Zahi as the army was progressing towards Naharin. By my own hand Mutemwia, Queen and Second Wife, the tenth day of Mesore, year one of the King.’”

“Write to Her Majesty welcoming the little Prince and his retainers,” Huy said, sliding off the desk. “This house is fast becoming too small. Tell Anhur to have his men gather bricks and construct quarters for the servants who will arrive. It will have to be somewhere against the rear wall—that’s all the open ground I have left. Talk to Merenra about mats and furnishings.” He grinned ruefully. “I am quite sure that our shrewd Queen knows how wealthy I am, down to the last uten of weight. She will not see me impoverished by her requests, but neither will she provide more gold than she deems necessary. She has created an excellent network of spies, Thothhotep. I wonder if Thothmes has any notion of how closely she watches his affairs.”

“And yours, Huy?” Thothhotep said. “Are you not concerned at how intimately she examines every detail of your life?”

Huy considered the question. “No, I’m not,” he replied finally. “Her ambition for her son and her vigilance over the course of her husband’s growing heresy are coupled with great intelligence, and a tolerance unusual in one so exalted.”

“You have named it at last,” Thothhotep said. “
Heresy.
It is just as well that Thothmes will live no longer than the few years the gods have ordained for him.”

Their eyes met in the tacit acknowledgment that their mutual complicity was now absolute. Huy nodded, turned, and left the room.

16

T
he river was still rising and the Delta air hot and humid when Prince Amunhotep and his crowd of servants disembarked from four barges on the third day of Paophi. Anhur’s soldiers had only just finished the mud-brick building they had hurriedly erected during the few weeks between the arrival of Mutemwia’s letter and the appearance of her son, and the not unpleasant odour of whitewash lingered over the estate. Anhur himself stood beside Huy and Thothhotep on the path, his men forming a guard along its edge and the rest of Huy’s staff clustering behind their master. Huy did not recognize the first official who came gliding from the ramp and along the path to halt in front of him. He was not a dwarf, but he was the shortest man Huy had ever seen, the beringed hands held out as he made his obeisance as small as a woman’s. Not until his blueribboned head went down did Huy see that he was slightly hunchbacked, his left shoulder higher than his right. The deformity obviously did not affect his bearing; he had walked from the deck of the royal barge and up to Huy with studied grace.

“I am Nubti, the Prince’s Household Steward,” he said. His voice was also a surprise: it was a masculine rumble even deeper than Anhur’s. “I realize that so many people taking up their residence here will be an inconvenience for you, Great Seer. Therefore the Queen Mutemwia has commanded me and the rest of the Prince’s servants to put ourselves entirely at your disposal.” He waved back at the men now clustered on the bank of the water, their waiting gaze on him. “We are all in subjection to your will and the direction of your own steward. The lesser servants may of course sleep on the barges. The nights are still very warm.”

Huy returned his bow, introducing Merenra, Thothhotep, Anhur, and his few other staff members. “Merenra, you and Nubti can begin sorting out accommodations at once,” he ordered his steward. “The Prince will of course occupy the guest room, and you must erect tents on the roof for Royal Nurse Heqarneheh and anyone else who needs to be close to him. Now, where is my charge?”

Without turning, Nubti raised a hand and clicked his fingers. At once the crowd parted and Amunhotep came walking through with his nurse Heqarneheh behind him.
He’s grown,
Huy thought, smiling, watching the child’s face light up in response.
He’s put on an inch or two, and his features are slightly more defined. I wonder how long it will be before he kicks off those gilded sandals and drops the jewel-bordered kilt in Heqarneheh’s lap.
Huy and his companions bowed low, arms extended in worship.

The Prince’s hennaed feet came together under Huy’s gaze. “Stand upright, Great Seer, new uncle, all the rest of you,” the childish voice commanded firmly, and Huy straightened to look down into a pair of kohled, sparkling eyes. “I have longed to see you again, and at last here I am! My mother the Queen has warned me to be obedient to you alone, so I hope you won’t have made up a lot of rules for me to follow, and I still have to do my lessons every morning.” He made a face. “Common children are allowed to enjoy their freedom during the Inundation, but not me! Oh no! My tutor Menkhoper is back there somewhere”—he waved a nonchalant arm in the direction of the group still waiting by the ramps—“and apparently you are to make sure that I study. Is the house snake still living in the garden? When can we go fishing? Anhur, will you teach me to shoot with a bow? I brought the one Wesersatet made for me.” His shoulders rose and his hennaed fists clenched in a gesture of pure glee. “Oh, I am so excited to be here!”

“Your Highness’s mastery over his vocabulary has grown,” Anhur said drily.

Amunhotep nodded. “I talk too much and don’t listen enough,” he replied without the slightest sign of contrition. “So says my body servant. Great Seer, Anhur, I will embrace you now.” Huy bent and Amunhotep’s arms went around his neck. A soft mouth was pressed against his cheek. Releasing Huy, the Prince threw himself at Anhur, jumping until Anhur lifted him. “You may carry me inside the house,” Amunhotep said, “and give me beer and sweetmeats.”

“You may have milk and bread with honey,” Heqarneheh contradicted him. As they moved towards the entrance, Huy looked back. Nubti and Merenra were dispersing the crowd, and Amunmose was hurrying after Huy together with an older man wearing a plain kilt, unlike many of the Prince’s entourage.
I must impress on Merenra the need for a quiet house for at least a couple of hours in the afternoons,
Huy thought as the coolness of the reception hall enveloped him.
Especially if Thothhotep and I have been working among the petitioners all morning. This promises to be an interesting few months.

The afternoon was chaotic as the guests found their quarters and collected and unpacked their belongings. Huy retreated to his office, answering his steward’s harried questions from time to time and speaking briefly with the Prince’s tutor, Menkhoper. It was decided that Amunhotep’s morning lessons should be held in the coolness of the office as soon as Huy and Thothhotep had dealt with their own correspondence. “As well as tutoring His Highness in the academic disciplines, I am also the Chief Scribe in the House of the Royal Children,” Menkhoper explained to Huy. “Any letters from the House will be delivered to me. My Mistress, Queen and Royal Wife Mutemwia, has ordered me to show you the contents of every scroll that arrives.” He looked at Huy with a frank interest. “She puts great faith in you, noble one, and expects you to be actively involved in the Prince’s education while he is here. The captain of your household guards is to begin lessons in wrestling and archery, and she requests that you foster a respect for architecture in my young charge. Of course, there are few monuments in this vicinity,” he added, “and at the palace Amunhotep has tutors in stonemasonry, shipbuilding, and the like, but my Mistress seems to feel that your perspective on these things will benefit her son. She asks for regular and private reports from you regarding his progress and his behaviour while he is here. She also insists that none of us interfere in any way with your work of Seeing, but that Amunhotep is on no account to accompany you on those occasions. He may be taken into the marketplace of the town if well guarded, however. My Mistress wishes him to observe the life of the commoners.” His tone was supercilious. “I do not ask why.”

“Then all he has to do is observe me,” Huy retorted, amused. “I am a Hut-herib peasant.”

“Even so.” Menkhoper was unperturbed. “But forgive me, Great Seer, you are hardly a typical example of Egyptian peasantry. Part of my task in educating this most precious boy is to teach him that in this country every man is equal under Ma’at and before the judges except the King, and then it is only his divinity that sets him apart. Perhaps my Mistress desires that truth more forcefully impressed on him than mere words could do.” He spread out his hands. “My responsibility is great, yet the Prince is a joy to instruct. He is intelligent and intuitive.”