City of the Dead

TEN

She bathed off the caked blood and cleaned the ripped flesh, throwing the linen wad which Huy had used to staunch the blood into the fire. She looked at the wound and, as he sat still, passively, he looked at her. She caught his eye briefly and smiled.

‘It’s a filthy mess. I’m going to put something on it which will hurt, and then you must drink three cups of flame liquor because it will hurt more when I stitch it up and I want you to keep still. I’ll do my best but you will always have a scar there.’

She turned to the fire, over which herbs were simmering in a copper pot. Through the door open to the garden, he could see Hapu picking chervil, coriander and dill. The two ro geese, taking a morning walk, came into view and peered inside inquisitively. He sat at a plain sycamore-wood table. It was a high-ceilinged room, whitewashed, bare of decoration. Against the wall opposite the fireplace stood a hard couch, above which pots, retorts and bronze implements were ranged on shelves. This had been Horaha’s consulting room, and it was here that she had brought him immediately after his arrival m the ninth hour of night.

She had not yet asked him for any explanation, and Huy was too exhausted to give any. He was happy to surrender to Senseneb’s skilled attention, and he was grateful for her restraint.

The lamp on the table was still lit, though by now the sun had risen fully. Huy wondered how long Horemheb would wait for Kenamun to report back before sending someone to look for him. He thought of the police chief’s smashed body, still lying spreadeagled in the bathroom of his house. He had covered it with a blanket before leaving, but he had not had the strength to do more otherwise than close and bolt his doors. He had known that if he could not get medical help quickly he would collapse, and instinctively he had come to Senseneb, leaving immediately in order to arrive before dawn.

She took the bowl off the fire and placed it on the table, dipped a soft cloth into it and turned to him again. The liquid gave off a pungent, unpleasant odour.

‘Now,’ she said. ‘Be brave.’

The boiling water seared the flesh at first, and the effect of the potion was a harsh stinging that ran outwards from his wound across his face; but it was followed by a numbness that brought relief.

‘All right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. Now for the difficult part.’ She smiled encouragement at him. No word had been said, but each of them had laid aside the last reservations they had had about each another and now they basked, like lizards in the sun, in the confidence of their hearts. He saw himself in her eyes as she saw herself in his.

She brought the liquor and placed it by him with a cup. Turning, she called Hapu, who came in, and, smiling at Huy, took up a position behind the chair.

‘What about Merinakhte?’ asked Huy.

Senseneb looked grim. ‘He hasn’t been back. But Hapu has kept the outer gates locked, and today he will be at the House of Healing. He has already taken up my father’s duties.’

‘I am sorry for his patients.’

She looked at him. ‘Don’t be. He is a doctor of great talent. In some way his Ka is torn down the middle.’

He is a dangerous man.’

Yes. Now, drink the three cups of liquor. That will be enough to deaden the pain. When I start, I will work quickly. Grip the sides of the chair tightly. Hapu will hold you still. Trust him. It will not take long. Would you like us to blindfold you?’

‘No.’ But Huy felt a qualm at the back of his heart.

She turned to a smaller copper vessel on the fire. Bringing it to the table, she washed her hands and then, taking off its lid, took a thin needle from it, which she threaded from a bobbin of gut. Huy drank the liquor. It burned his throat and stomach, leaving its familiar glow behind. Huy was in the habit of drinking more than he should, and he worried that three cups would not be enough, but by the time he had tipped back the third his head swam. He felt Hapu pin him to the back of the chair, and dutifully grasped its sides with his hands.

Senseneb came close, and placed the fingers of one hand on his cheek, either side of the wound. In the other she held the needle. It was very near his eye.

‘Now,’ she said gently.

She worked fast, as she had promised, and the darting pain of the needle as it passed through the flesh was over almost before it began. When the job was finished, she stood back, looking at her handiwork.

‘Good,’ she said, handing him a bronze mirror. He looked at the wound. It was livid, and the criss-cross of stitches made him look like a child’s drawing of a river pirate, but his face was recognisably his own once more.

‘Now you must rest.’

‘No.’

‘You don’t have a choice.’

‘There isn’t time.’

She cleaned his cheek with water. ‘You must make time. You can pass it by telling me what happened. I might have died of fright when you arrived here.’

He told her and she listened gravely.

‘There is something else,’ said Huy, finishing.

‘What?’

‘I am arranging for Queen Ankhsenpaamun to leave within days. I want you to go with her.’

‘Where?’

‘To the south. I would like you to take her to Napata.’

She frowned. ‘I will not leave here until I have seen my father buried. I have told you. And I will not leave without you.’

He held her arms. ‘The longer you stay, the greater the danger.’

‘Kenamun is dead.’

‘Yes. And it cannot be concealed long. When it is discovered, who knows what will happen?’

She was silent.

‘I have spoken to Ay,’ said Huy. ‘He guarantees your father’s burial and the care of his Ka.’

‘Do you believe that he will keep his word?’ if he gets the Golden Chair, there will be no reason for him to act dishonourably.’

She smiled. ‘Your faith is touching.’

‘No. He will want to make a good impression on the people. Horaha was a loyal servant of Tutankhamun. Do not forget the dead are with us always. They watch.’

‘Do you believe that?’

Huy looked away, it is not a question of what I believe, but of what is accepted.’

‘And what will you be doing, while I am escorting the queen to Napata?’

‘Making sure you are not followed.’

She took his face in her hands so he could not look away. ‘You are not getting rid of me, are you?’

‘What does your heart tell you?’

She looked down, letting go of his face.

‘What you ask is much.’

‘The risks are great whether we stay or go. The rewards are greater if we go.’

The morning was far advanced when he made his way across the palace compound to visit Ay. This was the first time he had come unannounced, and he was cautious in case Ineny was there. But if Kenamun’s body had not been discovered, Ineny would have no idea that Huy was aware of his treachery. Another risk that had to be taken.

He made his way to a side entrance, displayed his badge of office to the guard, and was admitted; but the house servant who greeted him told him that Ay was meeting with Horemheb and the high dignitaries of the city, and put him in an airless antechamber to wait. There was nothing else for Huy to do.

When he received him, Ay was in a contented mood. Huy had not had to wait long, though half an hour had been an age, and the sun beyond the window of the antechamber had seemed to hang without movement in the sky.

‘We meet sooner than I had expected,’ said the old man. is there trouble?’

‘Yes.’

Ay was alert, but the smile did not leave his lips. ‘I imagine we can deal with it. What has happened?’

‘First of all, I must have your confidence.’

Ay continued to smile. ‘That you already have. And my gratitude. We are alone. No one is hiding in the shadows. Speak freely.’

‘Ineny has betrayed you to Horemheb.’

The Master of Horse did not look surprised, if he has, he is too late.’ He leant forward. ‘I thought about your threats to go to Horemheb yourself if I did not do as you requested. So I decided not to wait for that, but to tell him myself. Of course it was necessary to create certain… embellishments, but he sees how things are.’ He drew himself up. ‘You must be quick. I have little time. There is much to prepare.’

‘For what?’

‘For taking the Golden Chair. You are looking at the next pharaoh.’

Huy was silent for a moment, then smiled. ‘You never believed in the force of my threat, did you?’

‘I knew you had given me enough to hang Horemheb, provided that I acted fast.’ Ay’s smile had faded.

‘So you stole a march on me.’

‘Yes. You are a clever man, Huy, as I have said more often than I care to remember. But even Horus has only one eye, so how can a mere man be blamed for a blind spot? I secured the king’s chariot and his horses; I sent men men to recover the tracker’s body; I sealed off the huntsmen’s quarters and interned the men themselves. I can strike fast when I need to. People think that because I am old, and proceed with care, that I cannot move when I want to; but no cobra was ever swifter than me. And you gave me all I needed.’

‘All power to you, Kheperkheprure Ay.’ Inwardly, Huy was congratulating himself that he had delayed telling Ay anything for so long.

The old man smiled again, but his eyes were hooded. ‘Tell me about Ineny. How did you learn about him?’

‘Through Kenamun. Horemheb sent him to kill me last night.’

The pharaoh-elect raised his eyebrows. ‘And where is Kenamun now.’

‘At my house.’

‘Dead?’

‘Yes.’

‘By the look of your face he almost got you.’

‘I saw the sail of the Boat of the Night.’

Ay looked out of the window at the sun. ‘He must be moved soon.’

‘Yes.’

‘Don’t worry about Horemheb. He has too much to think about to worry about a lost senet piece like Kenamun. But he does not like loose ends.’

‘That is why I came here. For your help.’

‘What makes you think I will give it?’

Huy spread his hands. ‘You have what you want.’

Ay laughed drily. ‘Yes, I do. And something tells me to keep on the right side of you, Huy. Won’t you really join me?’ The old man paused. ‘You could be senior scribe, here in the palace compound. Would that appeal to you? Keeper of the royal archive, for example?’

Huy’s heart ached, but the decision was no longer his to make. Certainly not now; and he did not foresee a long reign for the man who stood opposite him.

‘You are generous. But I have a job to finish.’

Ay waved his hand. ‘Ah yes. Little Ankhsi. Well, take her away if you must. She will not be a danger to me, and we have had enough bloodshed. But do not forget Horemheb. I am not so naive as to think he is beaten for good. If you want my help, you must tell me what you are going to do.’

‘And Kenamun?’

‘Leave him to me. Do not go back to your house tonight. By morning only the memory of his visit will remain.’

Huy spent much of the day down by the harbour. His wound throbbed, but he had no mirror to see what it looked like, and he had no intention of returning to Senseneb. Here, although he drew a few glances, people were too busy to pay much attention to him as he joined the usual bunch of quayside loafers watching the barges loading and unloading. Wide cedar barges from the northern country east of the Great Green, where the trees grew; gold carriers from the south. Limestone from the north, sandstone and granite from the First Cataract.

Three falcon ships were loading a regiment to head north to the Delta. Couriers had brought news that a Hittite army was gathering and rumours had its destination as the northern desert. The soldiers were conscripts – young, dusty and apprehensive, peasant boys who everyone hoped would be back by the time the flood had subsided, to work the black silt at the beginning of peret.

Huy searched among the ships for one belonging to Taheb's fleet, but he did not see one, or a single face he knew. The day passed slowly, but there would be no point in visiting Nubenehem until the evening. Then, if she had been successful in fulfilling Huy’s request, everything would have to m0ve quickly. Although Ay had reacted to Huy’s plan with scepticism, he had not dismissed it out of hand. Huy would not be forced to stage manage the whole thing on his own now, and his appeal for funds had not been rejected; but Ay had outmanoeuvred him, and he still could not bring himself to trust his new and enforced ally completely.

At last the shadows lengthened and the sun lost its heat, turning a deep red and growing as it always did when it approached the daily moment of its death, dipping with emerald flashes below the edge of the world to warm the empire of Osiris below. The crowd of porters and tradesmen, hawkers and longshoremen, sailors and idlers, dispersed quickly to their homes or to the eating and drinking houses whose owners were already lighting the sparse lamps hanging from mud brick walls. Huy made his way up the sloping street that led to the alleyways of the harbour quarter, and reached the door of the City of Dreams just as dusk was ceding the palm to night.

Nubenehem looked up as he entered. He could tell at once that she had no good news for him.

‘What did you expect?’ she said, it was a crazy idea.’

‘There’s still time.’

Nubenehem laughed. ‘Not a chance. I’ve already asked around – and that kind of request makes people ask questions. If you want to keep whatever it is you’re up to a secret, then don’t ask me for help.’ She paused for a moment. ‘And there’s no refund.’

‘Give it one more try. There’s still a day.’

‘I’m not sticking my neck out any further.’ The fat woman’s face was closed. ‘The way things are going in this town, it is bad business to do favours, even little ones, for friends.’

‘You took the silver quickly enough.’

Nubenehem glared at him. ‘I’m not Hathor. I can’t help you.’

Huy left. His heart was racing, but he told himself that the idea had been too dependent on chance in the first place. He would have to get Ankhsenpaamun out without faking her death, and take the chances of pursuit. He made his way to his house cautiously and watched it from a distance but it, and the square, were deserted. He could not go to Senseneb, for he did not know if Merinakhte would be keeping watch. He thought of Taheb, but quickly rejected the idea. Facing a fact that he had long been aware of, but avoided, that the kind of life he led made his existence friendless, he turned back to the harbour, and the lights of the drinking houses.

At dawn Ineny stood in his master’s workroom, thinking about the narrow escape he had had. Though he had long since stowed the leather bag of gold which Kenamun had given him so contemptuously, his hand still remembered its weight. The humiliation had stung him, but what horrified him most was the thought of the risk he had taken. He sweated with relief at the balancing thought, that he had got away with it, and was still on the winning side. Kenamun was dead. Horemheb had better things to do than betray him to Ay, but had shown no sign that he wished to buy him over to his side. Ineny now thought of the man whom, only hours earlier, he had tried to destroy, with warmth and gratitude. Once Ay was pharaoh what avenues would not be opened to him?

The work table was bare of papers, and Ineny stood irresolute. It had been ten minutes since the house servant had shown him in. He wondered if he should sit in his familiar seat, but for some reason it looked less inviting, less safe than it had before. Despite himself he felt like a stranger in the room.

There was nothing odd in Ay’s manner when he entered, and Ineny felt reassured.

‘Please sit down,’ said the old man, motioning to Ineny’s chair and taking his own seat. He reached for the jar of wine which stood with beakers on the table and poured it himself. Conscious of the honour, Ineny drew himself up ¡n his seat. He had not deserved such a fate, but his conscience was already encouraging him to think of his act of treachery as an aberration. That was why the gods had made it fail.

‘Thank you, lord,’ he said, standing to accept the proffered cup. Holding it, he remained standing. Something in Ay’s expression held him.

‘Drink,’ said Ay. ‘To my future.’

Ineny continued to stand, holding the cup. In the far recesses of his stomach, his instinct told him to beware; but there was nothing he could do. There was a movement in the room and he shifted his gaze slightly to see that two of Ay’s body servants had entered. Ay sat back, looking at him with faintly amused detachment, the corners of his lips curling upwards almost imperceptibly. One of the men came forward and bent over Ay, whispering to him. Ay nodded, pleased. He looked at Ineny indulgently.

‘Drink,’ he said.

There was no escape. Perhaps it was nothing after all. He raised the beaker, and then, seized with recklessness, drained it.

For a moment nothing happened. He looked at Ay and even registered the change in the old man’s expression. In these last moments of his life he realised that Ay knew. But how?

Then a pain came into his head like a bronze chisel, driven into the centre of the forehead and easing it apart. At the same time there was an overpowering revulsion of the stomach, though when he retched nothing but bitter air rose to his mouth. At that moment the light of the rising sun burst into the room, filling it, it seemed to Ineny, with a white brilliance which blotted everything else out; every detail, every person; and which grew greater and greater in power, until it was the only thing in the universe, and he was one with it.