Suzanne Robinson (28 page)

“Forgive me. I shouldn’t have told you, but I was angry and worried.”

From behind her, Anqet heard Khet’s voice. “How do you know this man is in Thebes?”

“I told my men and a few of my friends to watch for him. One of my drinking companions is a servitor in the temple of Amun-Ra. Hauron came there searching for a girl, a girl who from the description could only be Anqet.”

“Drinking companion?” Anqet lifted her head from Seth’s shoulder “You spoke my name in a tavern? Why?”

Seth grinned down at her “Remember the night I had you brought to my ship and I got drunk? I was with my friend, and much bedeviled by you and your distaste for me. He helped me drink my pain away and gave me advice on how to seduce you.”

“You are walking on the edge of a cliff, my love.”

“I told you I liked danger,” Seth said. “In any case, no matter how angry you become, you’re not leaving my sight.”

Anqet wriggled out of Seth’s arms. “How many times must I repeat that you aren’t my master? By the Nile, I hate the way you assume I’ll do what you say, just because I like the way you—” Anqet remembered Khet. “You’d think you were Pharaoh.”

“And you might as well be an addled quail-chick for all the wits you seem to have.”

A hot flush of wrath spread over Anqet’s fact. “I’m not stupid. Send Dega and some warriors north with me.”

Both Anqet and Khet winced at the obscene and sacrilegious phrases Seth hurled at her. The count grabbed her wrist.

“Now it’s Dega you choose as your protector.”

Anqet was about to inform Seth that it was his fault she needed a protector when Khet shoved between them. Anqet glanced down at the boy; she had forgotten he was there. His eyes were bright with unshed tears, and she realized Khet was more upset by their arguing than she would have thought. Determined not to increase his distress, she settled for a glower at the count.

“Your pardon, Commander,” Lord Dega said.

“I was passing by and heard Lady Anqet mention leaving for home. I must tell you that is not possible.”

“I know,” the count said.

“No, Commander Before I left Thebes, the Living Horus said to me that not only were you to report personally when this business was finished, but that you were to bring the lady Anqet.”

Seth stared at his equerry. Anqet stared at him too.

“Did Pharaoh say why he wished to see her?” Seth asked.

“No, my lord.”

“But I have nothing to do with Lord Merab or any robberies,” Anqet said.

Dega answered her “Pharaoh has spoken.”

Those three words overruled everyone’s wishes. Anqet turned on Seth.

“I don’t want to be in the same city as Hauron.” She eyed Seth. “I have a feeling you’re behind my being ordered to Thebes.”

“Me?”

She caught Seth’s brother by the arm. “Let’s find Meki. It’s time to feed him, and you should eat too.”

“I’m not hungry,” Khet said.

“Meki is.”

They sailed for Thebes the next day at sunrise. Anqet was an unwilling member of the party that accompanied the count of the Falcon nome on his return to Pharaoh. But she was calm again. She was no longer prey to the fear that Hauron would pounce on her the moment they docked, not with Seth and his warriors surrounding her.

On board Seth’s galley, Anqet kept her distance from the count. Certain that he had somehow persuaded Pharaoh to delay her, she kept busy with the self-appointed task of continuing Khet’s lessons in composition.

They sat on the deck beneath the shelter of the pavilion in front of the main cabin. Anqet corrected the boy’s script, ignoring Seth. After a few spurned attempts at conversation, the count became engrossed in the running of the ship. Wanting to make as much speed as possible, he ordered all oars in the water and the sail hoisted. The galley zigzagged downstream, beating into the wind with port and starboard tacks.

Out of the corner of her eye, Anqet watched Seth. Joining Lord Dega and several men, he and they positioned themselves about the deck and began to exercise. Stripped to a skimpy loincloth, the count stretched his arms wide
and leaned backward in an attempt to work out the soreness that was a legacy of the battle with Sennefer Anqet stopped her instruction in midsentence when the muscles in his arms and shoulders bunched and his hips thrust. The sun played over the taut brown skin at his belly.

“Merciful Isis,” Anqet said.

He was parading around like that on purpose. The harlot. With a supreme effort, Anqet dragged her gaze from her lovers glistening, spread legs.

“Khet, you’ve forgotten the determinatives on half your words. Look, you’ve got fifty jars of wine rejoicing at the storage yard.”

Anqet tried to keep her eyes on the used papyrus they employed for the lesson. Seth had stopped his exercising to help two sailors secure a line to the mast. His bare body twisted and stretched, and Anqet felt a tingling between her legs.

“He’s doing it on purpose.”

“Who’s doing what?” Khet asked.

“Nothing. I have an idea. You’d probably be more interested in lessons if they were about something besides accounts and religious instruction. Why don’t you try copying this triumph song. It’s about the pharaoh Khamose and his campaign to drive the Hyksos invaders from the Two Lands.”

Seth took a break. He had Dega pour water over his heated body, the liquid drenching his loincloth. Anqet turned back to Khet.

“Anqet, you’ve spilled ink all over your skirt.”

For Anqet, it was a long journey downriver to the capital. When the galley docked, a party of officials was waiting with chariots and orders to attend Pharaoh at once. After putting on court dress, Anqet found herself, Seth, and Dega in the royal palace before she had time to realize she was actually going to see the living god.

She and Dega waited in a long corridor friezed with blue faience tiles and watched a Syrian vassal prince leave Pharaoh’s presence. In his gaudy red wool skirt, the man
padded past them at the head of a retinue of oiled and simpering courtiers.

The overseer of the audience hall, one Minhetep, stepped out of the reception chamber, bearing a gold staff. Minhetep saw Count Seth speaking to General Horemheb, turned, and disappeared behind the great doors of the hall. A stream of dignitaries burst from the room, making rapid strides. Anqet pressed her back to the wall as a priest in leopard skins pushed by her with several army officers. She stayed there while the king’s favorite panther was escorted from the chamber by its keeper.

The overseer beckoned to Seth and Horemheb. Through the closing doors Anqet caught a glimpse of a vacant throne high on a dais and beside it, a slender figure in a double crown. Pharaoh waved a dismissing hand at the royal bodyguard. The corridor cleared of everyone but guards and the overseer.

Anqet’s hands and feet grew cold with apprehension. What if Pharaoh blamed Seth for his brother’s actions? What if the Living Horus desired revenge for the atrocity committed on the sacred body of his dead brother? Holy Amun-Ra, were they all to be executed? With growing trepidation she remembered a curse:
There is no tomb for one who is hostile to His Majesty; but his body shall be thrown into the water
Anqet leaned back against the cold faience wall tiles. The punishment for the enemies of Pharaoh was total extinction—no tombs, no prayers or offerings to keep their kas alive.

Dega put his hand on her shoulder “Is something wrong, lady?”

“What if Pharaoh blames Seth for … for …”

“Do not worry, my lady. The king has known Count Seth since the king was a babe. Pharaoh bears him great affection. I have seen the Living Horus defy even Divine Father Ay for Seth. The commander is in no danger.”

Anqet was only partially reassured by Dega’s words. The king loved Seth. Would he still love the brother of the man who desecrated tombs?

It was over an hour before the audience-hall doors parted. Minhetep stalked over to Dega and Anqet.

“The Living God, The King of the North and the South, the Golden One, Son of the Sun, sayeth thus: ‘Lord Dega will bring unto my justice the one called Paheri and the other foes of Ra. The Lady Anqet will attend my majesty.’”

It took Anqet a while to understand that Dega was to see to their prisoners, who had followed in a separate ship, and she was to go into the presence of Pharaoh. Casting a fearful glance at Dega, Anqet trailed the tall, stiff-jointed overseer into the audience hall. It was empty. Feeling insignificant, shrinking beneath the pillars that supported the roof far overhead, Anqet was relieved when her guide conducted her through a door behind the throne. They went down a corridor, through two formal antechambers, and into a foyer guarded by a squad of men bearing spears and battle-axes.

The overseer vanished behind a door overlaid with sheet gold and engraved with the images of Pharaoh and the god Amun-Ra. The man reappeared. He held the door open, and motioned for Anqet to enter. Slipping inside, Anqet paused to take in the beauty of the room before her.

It was a chamber of light. Numerous high, narrow windows made the whole place bright yet let in little heat. Like Seth’s room at Annu-Rest, it was adjoined by a terrace and a private garden filled with sycamores, palms, and willows. Papyrus plants, cornflowers, and poppies bordered the terrace. On one wall of the room was a line of shelves filled with bookrolls and writing utensils. Another wall bore armor, weapons, and walking sticks. On a table near the door Anqet saw a box. It held the double crown of Egypt. She examined this hallowed object discreetly before daring to step further into the room in search of Pharaoh.

From almost every object in the chamber, the gleam of gold and electrum struck her eyes. A gilt couch with lion-head finials stood on the terrace. Its rumpled cushions gave evidence of recent occupation. Where was Pharaoh? And Seth?

Anqet stepped further into the king’s study and saw two people beside a pond brimming with blue lotus. Count Seth knelt before the young king. General Horemheb was absent. Anqet crept out to the terrace. Unsure of how to approach the pharaoh, she hoped one of the men would notice her. Tutankhamun was glaring at Seth. Anqet’s heart started to vibrate in fear The king was furious.

“No, I tell you,” Tutankhamun said. His voice was raised in anger. “I forbid it.”

“Please, Majesty.”

“No.” Tutankhamun whipped away from the count, saw Anqet, and beckoned to her Anqet fell on her knees before the king and touched her head to the ground.

“Get up,” the king told her “Both of you get up. By the twelve gates of the netherworld, I refuse to allow it. Seth, you may not resign your command.”

Anqet edged as close to Seth as she dared. She heard the cause of Pharaoh’s anger with relief. Tutankhamun sat on the stone ledge of the pool and regarded them silently. Anqet glanced at Pharaoh. There was strain in his face. The smooth skin was pulled tight about the mouth, and there was a haunted sadness in his eyes. The king was looking at Seth, his full lips pursed in annoyance.

“You taught me to draw a bow. You showed me how to hold a javelin. You were with me when I heard that my brother was dead and that I would be king. Do you think me so ungrateful or so foolish as to blame you for something Sennefer did? You insult me, my lord.”

“Majesty,” Seth said, “your advisers, the princes of the kingdom and the empire, they will demand that I—”

“They will demand nothing,” Tutankhamun said. He spoke calmly. The youth uttered the words that ended all protest. “It is my word.”

“Pharaoh’s word is performed,” Seth replied.

Tutankhamun nodded. He stood up and came toward them. To Anqet’s utter consternation, the boy linked arms with Seth and herself and directed their steps to the shade of the covered terrace.

Pharaoh was touching her, talking to her.

“And Seth told me how you fought as bravely as any warrior.”

Tutankhamun settled back on the lion couch. He indicated a chair for Anqet and a place for Seth. The count sank to the floor Tutankhamun laid a hand on the count’s shoulder, as if to ensure that Seth would stay put. The king smiled at Anqet. She held still and tried to accustom herself to being looked at by the living god. It didn’t help that the young man obviously enjoyed looking at her. She had seen that gleam in the eyes of another. Anqet flushed and studied her hands. The king addressed her.

“This is the second time I have come under obligation to you, Lady Anqet.”

Anqet attempted to say something, but the sight of Pharaoh half reclining opposite her took the words from her head as fast as chaff flew in the wind. She cast a glance of appeal at Seth. The count smiled at her.

“Lady Anqet is in awe of thee, Majesty. Believe me, she isn’t normally so quiet.”

Tutankhamun’s laughter came spilling out at Anqet. She blinked, and a timid smile graced her lips.

“At least say something,” Tutankhamun said to her. “You will make me feel like a monstrous demon if I frighten ladies in private as well as in public.”

“Majesty,” Anqet said. She cleared her throat. “Majesty, thy words honor me. I regret to say that I fought out of terror, not bravery.”

“Seth always tells me my fear only means I’m wise enough to recognize danger.”

“I recognized it at once, Majesty,” Anqet said.

This time both Seth and the king grinned at her. Anqet perceived a new direction in the king’s thoughts. The boy let heavy lashes conceal his eyes as he spoke to Seth.

“So, my friend, you’ve made an enemy of the lady Gasantra. She returned from Annu-Rest bleating of some well-endowed tavern girl who has you enthralled. I assume she means our glorious Lady Anqet.”

Seth frowned at one of the lion heads on the couch.
“Who prattles of such things to thee, Majesty? Such foolish gossip is unfit for the ears of Pharaoh.”

“My ears have a great liking for gossip, thank you.”

Seth turned toward the king. “Pharaoh, the lady Anqet is the most honorable, the most gentle and loving woman I’ve ever met. Gasantra is a jealous, whining hippopotamus.”

Anqet lowered her head to conceal a blush.

“Oh?” Tutankhamun said.

“She tried to bed me after I told her I could no longer accept her favors,” Seth said. He pounded a fist into his thigh. “Then she tried to knife me when I refused her advances.”