Suzanne Robinson (10 page)

“No. Do you think I want the whole palace to know what she did to me?” The king stopped, then swore. “I must be worse off than I thought. My tongue is loose.”

Anqet ignored his angry words.

“What is your will, Pharaoh?”

“I must leave, but I must not be seen in this condition. Find a place where these wounds may be bound.”

“There is a room where cushions and mats are stored,” she said. “Through that door, my Pharaoh.”

Tutankhamun extended his hand. Anqet took it reluctantly. She had treated the living god with familiarity. Amun-Ra would strike her dead. To her surprise, she lived to support the king through a door and into the storage room.

As she helped him to a seat among the piles of cushions, Anqet realized that she would have to bind the king’s wound, for they would never be able to hide the stains if his blood got on the floor.

“I must have bandages,” she muttered.

Casting a nervous look at the king, she bowed and went out the door Anqet returned with a lamp from the hallway and a curtain she had jerked from the wall. She
tore the material into bandages and wrapped Pharaoh’s wound as best she could. When the last knot was tied, she sat back and found Pharaoh staring at her—or through her. She was struck by the change in him. Gone was the remote majesty, the formality, the maturity. Here was a lad tortured by shame and fear, trying desperately not to show it.

“Majesty, you must send for someone,” she said. “I will go. Tell me what to do.”

Tutankhamun drew a deep breath. His full lips pursed as he moved in pain.

“You know the main entrance to the queen’s apartments? Go there. Say these words to the chief of my bodyguard.”

Anqet memorized the king’s cryptic message. It took all her courage to skulk down the guarded main hall and speak to the silent black giant before the queen’s doors. At her words, the Nubian made a quick hand signal, and sentries filed out of the hall. The black man lifted a massive arm and pointed back the way Anqet had come.

She ran back to the king. He was tugging at his makeshift bandage. Anqet pulled his hands away.

“Please, Majesty. You will start bleeding again. The writings of Physician Ahmose say that such a wound must be sewn.”

“You can read? How is it that a singer can read?”

Anqet was never required to answer, for the door opened. Pharaoh’s bodyguard slipped inside, followed by Seth. The count carried a bundle and a drawn scimitar. He rushed to the king, anxiety plain on his face.

“Majesty, are you all right?”

Seth glanced at the bloodied robe, the bandage, and Anqet, who had retreated to a far comer. A low, urgent conversation followed, to which Anqet was not privy. Seth put his scimitar on the floor, took from the bundle a robe of heavy linen, and helped Tutankhamun dress. Their voices rose in argument.

“No,” the king said. “Well wait until tomorrow to send for the physician. I want no rumors started.”

Seth bowed his head. It was the first time Anqet had seen him submit to anyone. She would have doubted even Pharaoh’s ability to command the count. Seth helped the king to his feet and escorted him from the room. Anqet was left standing by herself with Pharaoh’s bloodied robe in her hands.

Seth reappeared and picked up his scimitar. He took the king’s robe from her. “Why are you here?”

On the defensive, Anqet frowned at him.

“I came to get my harp. I forgot it. I heard the king.” That was all she was going to say.

Seth put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up so that she was looking at him. Anqet jerked her head away.

“Do you know what happens to people who come upon the secrets of the great?” Seth asked. “Sons of pharaohs have been killed for learning too much.”

Anqet shrank away from him. “Pharaoh told you to kill me.”

“No. I only want to make sure you understand that it is a possibility. Pharaoh asked me to thank you, and commands your silence.”

Anqet nodded. The count studied her, letting his eyes roam over her body. Anqet could feel a blush spread over her face. Seth leaned down and kissed her on the nose.

“Remember this, sweet one. Kindness and intelligence can get you killed. Tend to your singing, and do not force the Living Horus to cut out your tongue by using it too freely.”

Seth traced a long finger over her lips, then kissed them and vanished. Anqet suppressed a shiver. She looked around the room to make sure there were no traces of their visit, but Seth had already taken care of that.

Why had she gone out on the portico? Inexperienced as she was, she should have known that only one man would be present so close to the queen’s apartments. She was fortunate that Pharaoh was young and softhearted. His
brother Akhenaten or his father, Amenhotep HI, would have made her mute for hearing such secrets. Anqet had no doubt that the queen had attacked Tutankhamun in bed. The woman must be mad. She was the daughter of the heretic Akhenaten; she was probably insane.

Anqet made the sign against evil and resolved to obtain a charm that would protect her from further danger She would see one of the magician priests tomorrow.

That evening, on the right bank of the Nile in the temple complex of Amun-Ra, the adoration of the god was over. Priests of all ranks, Divine Servants, Pure Ones, Prophets, Seers, and Sem Priests had long since scattered to their homes within the walls of the god’s city. Deep within the god’s house, behind the pylon of Thutmose III, in a tiny windowless room off the main shrine, sat Lord Merab’s leader. The man was known simply as the master. He read from a brightly painted papyrus. Air circulated in the chamber through grilles set high in its walls. The breeze made the flames from alabaster lamps flutter. The master rolled one page closed and slipped it into the compartment of a stiff leather case. As he reached for another page, Lord Merab entered. The master looked up, his face registering surprise.

“Something has happened,” Merab said.

“I assumed that you had a good reason for coming to me here.”

His sandals creaked as Merab rocked on his feet. He had put off reporting to the master about Count Seth, for he knew that his leader had the temper of a possessed cobra, hide it as he might from most. Merab had seen the master deliberately unleash his rage—and kill. Stuttering, with many hesitations, Merab revealed that Count Seth, nomarch of Annu-Rest, knew of his activities and wanted to join their association.

The master said nothing, even after Merab had finished. “He doesn’t know about you,” Merab said uneasily.

“Offal-head. Of course he doesn’t know, or he would have dealt with me, not you.”

The moments passed in quiet tension. Merab thought the master had forgotten his presence, the man was so intent on his own thoughts. Something brown came flying at him, and Merab jumped back as the master hurled the leather case across the room.

“Him! He will ruin everything with his pernicious urges to affront the true order.” The master pointed a finger at Merab. “You say he suspects nothing more than simple thievery. I tell you, we have to be sure. Our plans for the venture in the North will mature soon. I want to make sure of him before that. We can’t afford to leave him loose around the king with his knowledge. Either he becomes one of us, or he dies. Once he’s committed a crime, he won’t betray us, for fear of exposure.”

Merab stepped around the leather case. “Unless he serves Pharaoh.”

“Seth wouldn’t bestir himself on behalf of the dead, even for Pharaoh,” the master said. “Remember his mother.”

“Body of Osiris, who does not?”

The master picked up a bookroll and tapped it idly against the tips of his fingers. Merab relaxed, now that his life was no longer in danger. His confidence in his ally was unquestioning. For years the man’s ingenious plans had brought them riches, riches carefully concealed and used to buy adherents and favors among the state’s bureaucrats and greedy priesthood. The master’s hidden influence was felt throughout Pharaoh’s kingdom.

Merab’s leader dropped the papyrus. “Perhaps the gods have done us a favor, my friend.” The master ran his fingers lovingly over the roll where it lay on the table. “Yes. I begin to think Amun-Ra, the Hidden One, has put Seth in my power for a reason. I’ll think upon this. I must consider how best to take advantage of our dear count’s indiscretion. I’ll have instructions for you soon. We will meet in the customary place. Don’t come here again.”

Merab bowed to the master and withdrew, leaving the man staring into a lamp flame with a peaceful expression on his face that boded ill for Count Seth. As he walked
through the quiet shrine past a black basalt statue of Sesostris I, Merab again counted himself lucky. He had been sure that the sound of Seth’s name alone would produce one of the master’s killing rages. Once Merab had seen him plunge his dagger into a man’s throat because the unfortunate had questioned his orders.

One did not question the master. One obeyed without inquiry—and became wealthy. It would be a pleasure to watch his leader wrap Count Seth in his powerful coils. They hadn’t expected Pharaoh’s friend to come within their reach. The master wasn’t that secure in his power yet. Merab’s grin widened. As long as his own hide wasn’t endangered, he would enjoy the contest between the count and the master whose lethal vindictiveness was as hidden as the Hidden One himself.

Where could one find the privacy to pen a letter when one wasn’t supposed to know how to write?

Anqet had obtained a scrap of papyrus, a reed pen, and ink from the magician priest who gave her the amulet of the buckle that would protect her from harm. It was a charm of red glass shaped like a miniature buckle. She wore it suspended from a copper chain. In return for the amulet, Anqet had transmitted a love token to a dancer for the priest.

Anqet twirled the reed pen in her hand. The problem was not to reveal her education. Gossip of a court singer named Anqet who was also learned might reach Hauron before she could gain the safety of Menana’s house. Anqet stuffed her writing materials into a bag, along with a vial of water.

She decided to take a walk. She would keep her eyes open for a good hiding place. She had more free time now, for today the Great Royal Wife had suddenly gone to Abydos with most of the harem. Ostensibly the queen went to dedicate a new wing of the Osiris temple. Anqet was sure that Pharaoh could no longer abide his wife’s presence under his roof One of the queen’s women had commanded Anqet’s presence on the royal barge, but the
order was countermanded by Pharaoh’s steward. So here she was, stuck in the women’s quarters with a reduced contingent of singers, dancers, acrobats, and musicians who had nothing to do because Pharaoh was indisposed and the court’s activities in abeyance.

It was dusk. Heat from the afternoon sun still baked the bricks of the living quarters. Anqet sauntered toward the east side of the compound where little-used storehouses hugged the outer guard wall. She passed artisans, laborers, and slaves headed for home and the evening meal. In the distance she could hear one of the king’s horse masters swearing at a stallion newly arrived from some desert kingdom.

Anqet glanced up and down the path that led to the storehouses. Ahead lay a block of buildings in disrepair. A dumping ground for everything from broken harnesses to flawed stone from the sculptors’ workshop, the place was deserted. Holes had begun to appear in walls and in the exterior staircase at the end of the building. These stairs led to the roof and had three steps missing at the base.

Anqet paused beside the stairs and inspected them under the guise of adjusting the strap of her sandal. No one was around. Who would look for her on the roof of a storehouse? Pleased with her cleverness, she hopped up the steps and onto the roof. There were holes in it, so she’d have to stay close to the edge. The walls of the building extended above the surface of the roof, so that she was hidden from anyone on the ground. Anqet sat down and leaned back against the wall. Taking out her supplies, she mixed ink while she thought of the best way to explain to Menana that she wanted to be his wife after all and that they had to hire a small army as soon as possible.

Anqet swirled the tip of her pen in the ink and tried not to worry. Each day she was absent from home risked the souls of her parents. She was afraid Hauron would take vengeance upon her by destroying the eternally preserved bodies of Rahotep and Taia. It was the threat of
this horror that gave her the courage to propose to the unexciting Menana.

The Ming light was causing her eyestrain by the time Anqet was halfway through the third sentence of her letter. She packed up her utensils and was about to swing her leg over the wall when a man walked past the stairs. Anqet crouched behind her wall and raised her head barely above it. The man stopped to adjust his sandal, just as she had. The coincidence sparked her curiosity. To her dismay, the intruder went around the staircase and leaned against its back as though he intended to remain there for some time.

She heard a crunch and peeped over the low wall. She could make out the man’s form only as a blacker mass in the darkness. He was popping bits of whiteness into his mouth. Coconut. The noise of his chewing was loud. Anqet groaned inwardly and sat down with her back to the wall. Why did this man have to choose her refuge as a place to snack?

The time passed, enlivened by lip smacking. Someone else came near. She could tell because he was humming a pastoral tune in a low, vibrant voice. Anqet once more peered down at the intruder A tall, sinewy man, the man who hummed, had joined him. He still hummed and watched the other man calmly munching coconut. The tune was familiar It was the song of a lovesick cattle herder Anqet blinked. She almost giggled. The insult was completely lost on the coconut eater The newcomer broke into song:

Anqet shrank down in her hiding place. Not him again! It was a curse. The count finished his verse and eyed the other man.

“Merab, you have news. Control your appetite and tell me.”

“I have need of transport for my goods,” Merab said, his mouth full of coconut. “Seagoing vessels and cargo ships for the trip downriver.”