Suzanne Robinson (8 page)

Gasantra drew her hand back to strike Anqet again, but strong fingers closed over her arm and forced it down. Seth stood over her, his body tense with anger.

“Touch her again, and I’ll throw you in the cattle pen,” he said.

Gasantra hissed at him. “She’s a conniving whore.”

Anqet held a hand to her bleeding mouth. She was about to lose her place with Lady Gasantra. She didn’t like the woman, but where would she go?

Gasantra was in a fine temper. Seth half reclined on the bench and listened to the woman’s tirade while Anqet stood between them in miserable embarrassment and fear.

“I don’t see why I should share you with one under my own roof.” Gasantra paused for breath.

“Neither do I,” Seth said. He got to his feet and headed for the house with the easy walk of a leopard.

“Seth, where are you going?”

“Out from under your roof, of course.” He didn’t even turn his head.

Gasantra pattered after him. She had lost all semblance of anger “Seth, wait!”

Anqet watched Gasantra hurry after the count. Seth stopped and stood in the moonlight, cool and distant, while Gasantra pleaded, bringing a gentle hand up to his cheek. Seth bore her caress patiently but remained unmoved.
When Gasantra released him, he turned away once more and strolled around the comer of a storage building toward the gardens and the house.

Gods! He’d wanted her and had the temerity to assume that she would return his advances for a price. And now his attentions had probably cost her her liveli-hood. One moment he was obsessed with passion for her, and the next he had forgotten her for that woman.

Anqet sank down on the bench and rested her head in her hands. How could she have been so foolish? How could she have forgotten what he was—a foreign, depraved demon, a man who would destroy his own mother’s soul, a man who kept one brother from the priesthood and tormented the other with his heartlessness.

Black, sluggish depression settled over Anqet. She had to put Count Seth out of her mind. She mustn’t forget that neither he nor anyone else except Tamit knew she wasn’t really a singer. It wasn’t pleasant, being a commoner. She didn’t like being treated like a toy. She would forget the nasty, beautiful count and go to bed.

Wearily she got to her feet and trudged across the yard to the kitchen door. Tomorrow she must search for other employment, and somehow she must think of a way to return to her beloved Nefer without falling into Hauron’s power again. Perhaps she could hire her own warriors who would protect her from him. To do so would require payment, and her valuables were at Nefer. What little jewelry she had with her would not be enough. No matter She was going home if she had to steal a reed skiff, paddle all the way by herself, and fight a small war when she got there.

Picking up a pebble, Anqet hurled it at the side of the house. It hit the mud brick with an angry snap that echoed her thoughts. Yes, she would think of a plan that would allow her to go home. She had had enough of Thebes and its cruel aristocracy.

“And thus, might Pharaoh, I feel confident that we have enough surveyors to attend this year’s Inundation.
We will have the whole of the Two Lands measured without difficulty.”

In the king’s audience chamber Seth set his jaws together and willed himself not to yawn. He leaned against a column shaped like a papyrus stalk. His eyes drifted from the overseer of surveyors to the king. On a dais, Tutankhamun sat on his golden throne, crook and flail scepters in his hands. Like Seth, he wore a linen head-cloth that fell over his shoulders, but his was held in place by a gold uraeus diadem. Seth marveled at the boy’s expression of polite attention. The lad had been in counsel for the whole morning, and old Huy was particularly long-winded. What amazed him more was that Pharaoh would recall every detail of the man’s report.

Huy knelt on the floor. Tutankhamun inclined his head, and Huy backed out of the chamber. The double doors, taller than two men, closed with a boom that echoed in the vast hall. Tutankhamun set his scepters on a tray carried by a servant, let out a sigh, and stretched his legs. As the pharaoh got to his feet and worked his shoulders free of kinks, the group of ten councelors clustered around him drew closer.

General Horemheb motioned for Seth to stand beside him. Vizier Ay, Treasurer Maya, and Lord Sennefer stood together at the foot of the dais. The Nubian prince Hiknefer of Aniba handed Tutankhamun a goblet of water. He and Prince Khai were two of Pharaoh’s companions. Seth’s eyes found the overseer of the audience hall and the viceroy of Kush as well as the high priest of Amun-Ra. He wondered why Horemheb had requested this so-called private meeting. He didn’t wait long in ignorance, for Tutankhamun settled himself on his throne again and beckoned for his chief counselors to come near. Pharaoh nodded at Horemheb. The general strode to the king’s side and faced the group.

With Seth standing beside him, he waited for their attention. When he had it, Horemheb held up a miniature gold statuette of the jackal-god Anubis. Seth’s expression
remained impassive, though he noticed the funeral inscription at the base of the figure.

“The divine son of the god has asked me to address you in a matter that has shocked him beyond speech,” announced Horemheb.

Seth cocked a skeptical eye at the king. Well, the boy certainly looked worried, so the matter had to be serious.

Horemheb handed the statue to Seth. “King Burnaburiash of Babylon sent this image to the king’s majesty. One of his men found it on the leader of a caravan raid. Burnaburiash doesn’t take kindly to nomads disrupting his Egyptian gold supply. Anyway, he questioned the man. Before he died, the man spoke of tomb robbery.”

There was a strangled cry from the high priest of Amun-Ra. The old man was steeped in the occult traditions of his country and like all good Egyptians, believed in the cult of the dead of the god Osiris. Several councilors made the sign to protect against the vengeance of the dead.

“There have been defilements before,” Horemheb said. “But this instance is different. That Anubis image comes from the necropolis at Memphis, some eleventh-dynasty lord. Treasurer Maya went personally to the city. He had the necropolis police search. Nine old tombs had been stripped of all their portable wealth. All the gold, silver, electrum, and precious stones. The coffins were rifled.” Horemheb stopped and muttered a charm.

Seth spoke up. “I told you it would happen sooner or later. Of course, being only half Egyptian, I can appreciate what a temptation all that lovely gold must be, especially if your belly is empty and your lord takes much of what you raise in taxes.”

There was outraged grumbling. Tutankhamun cast a startled look at Seth. Sennefer took two steps up the dais toward his younger brother, but Horemheb was quicker. The general lunged at Seth and yanked his junior officer to him by one arm.

“Spare us your provocative wit,” Horemheb said. “This is not a matter for levity.”

“Yes, my general.” Seth knew when not to try his commander’s patience.

Ay cleared his throat, and silence immediately fell over the men.

“General Horemheb and I will begin investigations. We ask that each of you be aware that Burnaburiash of Babylon made one last comment in his letter. His words were, ‘Let my brother Tutankhamun beware. The vultures who prey upon the dead lodge in his house and partake of his bread and beer. Let the Living Horus take heed, for he has taken to his breast a scorpion.’”

A sibilant hiss traveled around the group. No one could mistake the words of the Babylonian king. The corruption and thievery reached into the court itself.

Seth was intent on the king’s response to the news. The boy’s life had been filled with intrigue and betrayal during the reign of his older brother.

When he looked around, Seth noted the suspicious glances directed at him. He met the eyes of his half brother and found Sennefer looking at him appraisingly. Seth grinned at his sibling as the king spoke.

“My majesty is determined to stop this blasphemy, my lords. There has been too much heresy in the Two Lands. Now that the gods and the people are in harmony and balance again, we do not intend to have that balance destroyed.”

It was one of the few times Seth had heard the boy refer to the rift caused by his brother’s disastrous persecution of the old gods.

Tutankhamun rose and made his way toward the doors. “Count Seth, we are to practice at the bow this afternoon.”

“Yes, Divine Majesty.”

Seth followed the king out of the room, past the silent and pensive group of men. Pharaoh led him out to the waiting royal chariots. The king’s war band stood ready, fifty of Egypt’s best warriors drawn from the ranks of the nobility.

“Life, health, strength!”

Tutankhamun raised his hand in response to their greeting. Seth jumped into his own vehicle and followed the king out of the city into the desert practice field. Soon they were racing across the rocky surface of the land. Each chariot had a driver and a bowman who aimed at stuffed leather targets on wooden stakes. Stones and dust churned under the horses’ hooves and the wheels of the chariot as Seth drove the king’s chariot at top speed down the course. Beside him, Tutankhamun let fly an arrow from his compound bow. It found its mark, along with twenty others just like it. The king shouted in triumph.

“All of them! Seth, I got all of them!” He clutched at the rim of the chariot as Seth slowed the horses to a trot. “That’s the first time.”

“Didn’t I tell Your Majesty it would happen? You have the patience to practice and the skill.”

“Patience! It took years.”

Seth pulled the team to a walk and guided the chariot in a circle. The yells and jeers of the war band bounced off the cliffs to the west as the men continued their practice.

“My pharaoh, you have only this year attained the necessary height.”

“Yes, yes. I know.” Tutankhamun thrust his bow into the case attached to the side of the chariot. “Seth, I’m worried.”

“I know.”

“But you don’t take this tomb robbery seriously,” the king said. “I fear for your ka, my friend.”

Seth looked down at the king, his face a blank mask. “Majesty, my soul is split down the middle. Half of it is Egyptian, half barbarian.” He leaned toward the boy, his lips twitching. “Perhaps my soul will go to two heavens. I am doubly assured of the afterlife.”

“You could go to double hells.”

Seth threw his head back and laughed. The king hopped from the chariot. Seth followed, and they walked before the horses.

“My pharaoh, I would ask a favor.”

“How may I serve you?”

“I would like to borrow the chief royal harpist for a few hours, and also make an addition to your staff of musicians.”

The king glanced at Seth with a perplexed frown on his lips. “If you wish. It seems a trifling favor.”

“Hardly worthy of your notice, Majesty, but the chief harpist is temperamental. You know he can be uncooperative if he’s in a mood.”

“What are you up to?”

Seth turned to the king, his eyes wide and innocent.

“Oh no.” Tutankhamun raised a hand in protest. “Don’t say anything. I know you. You’re not going to tell me, so don’t bother with that performance. Let’s go. My difficult royal spouse expects me to join her for the evening meal.”

Anqet scurried along the busy avenue after the blind man and the youth who led him. Two royal guards followed her, scimitars dangling at their sides.

She called to the blind man. “Master Harkhuf.”

Her bundle of possessions slung over her shoulder, she trotted to catch up with the two. Harkhuf might not be able to see, but he traveled as if everyone knew it and would get out of his way. In most cases they did. He paced along with a sure gait, one hand on the boy’s shoulder, the other holding a walking stick with a silver top shaped like a duck’s head. Anqet managed to overtake the man as he turned a corner.

“Please, Master Harkhuf, I don’t understand. How can I be a singer for the divine pharaoh?”

Harkhuf stopped abruptly, forcing his guide to totter off-balance for a moment. Pedestrians filed around the guards and their charges.

“How?” the man snorted. “Foolish girl, the son of the god has spoken.”

“But Pharaoh has never heard me.”

“Presumption! Of course he has never heard you. I received instructions to acquire you. It has been done.”

“But whose instructions?”

Harkhuf swiveled his head in her direction. Wrinkled eyelids remained closed over sightless eyes.

“One of Pharaoh’s servants brought commands. Don’t dawdle, girl. My time is precious to me, if not to you.”

Anqet walked beside Pharaoh’s chief harpist, determined
to make the man listen to her. “Master Harkhuf, I have no wish to be a court singer.”

The blind man paid her no heed other than to swat at her with his stick. Anqet cast a glance over her shoulder at the two guards. Their faces were blank, but she knew they wouldn’t allow her to leave.

A few minutes walk took them to a sentried gate set in a high white wall. Inside the gate was a small city. Single- and two-storied blocks of buildings lay on either side of a central path. As she rushed after Harkhuf, Anqet passed the workshops of stonemasons, lapidaries, sculptors, metalworkers, carpenters, and leatherworkers. At the lapidaries’ she paused to eye a pile of stone flakes: the red-orange of carnelian, the azure blue of turquoise, the deeper blue of lapis lazuli, and the flamboyant green of malachite.

Shepherded by the harpist, Anqet quickly arrived at the living quarters of the female singers of the royal household. There Harkhuf left her. Anqet couldn’t understand what had happened. This morning she’d risen, fearing Lady Gasantra would have her beaten. The night’s events between herself and Count Seth had convinced Anqet that she must leave. In a way, she was grateful that she was forced to make a plan.

Last night Anqet had decided she would appeal to her old suitor, Menana. He was young and shy, but a good boy. She would go to his estate first. They would marry. She had visions of them marching upon Nefer with a hoard of retainers, casting Hauron’s minions into the Nile. If Hauron was there, she would throw him to the crocodiles.