City of the Dead

SEVEN

Queen Ankhsenpaamun was expecting him. She greeted him in a narrow stone hall, hemmed in by massive painted columns, dwarfing mere humans. She wore a pleated dress of dark blue, with a golden headdress and collar. It was as if she had dressed with such severe formality to bolster her from the shock which, from her expression, she already knew she was going to receive.

She held her hands before her as she approached him, her eyes wide open and shining. He caught her thoughts before she spoke them and there was no need for her to question him. He felt that there was no need for him to tell her, either; but he did, bluntly, briefly. Not adorning the fact or concealing anything. He was past that now.

When he had told her she was still for long minutes, her face taking on an expression of utter desolation; more, thought Huy, than the half-expected news that he had brought would warrant. She looked as if the world had abandoned her.

‘There is other news, too,’ she said finally, in a voice like the desert.

‘What?’

‘Prince Zannanzash is dead. His whole party and my couriers were ambushed by desert pirates, and killed and robbed. He had only a light guard with him.’

It was Huy’s turn to be silent. Then he said, ‘How do you know?’

‘His father sent me the news. It is a great sadness.’

‘Will there be war?’

‘No. But the only reason is that King Shuppiluliumash is not ready. He suspects that the pirates were not there by chance. But he does not blame me.’

‘How could he?’

‘Indeed. My only thought was for peace, and protection for my child. An alliance with the Hittites would have been the salvation of the Black Land.’

After she had finished speaking she was silent for a while. They stood opposite each other in the bleak stone room, which was cold, and which contained a darkness which even the many oil lamps could not dispel. Her hands went to her stomach, covering it protectively. Her eyes, which had been distant, became hard, and her young face became older.

‘What happens now?’ she asked, finally.

‘You must leave,’ said Huy.

‘When?’ The voice was empty.

‘As soon as possible.’

‘But not before the entombment?’

‘That is at least two months away.’

‘I will not leave before the entombment.’

‘You must.’

‘They have killed the king. You do not understand. They have killed him.’ Her eyes were on fire. ‘I will not allow them to take his name away, to kill his Ka as well.’

‘They will not do that.’ Huy wanted to tell her that the one thing Tutankhamun was assured of was a proper funeral. That his death had been anything other than an accident would be something only ever known to two or three people, and the secret would die with them. But he could see from her eyes that there would be no point in producing rational arguments for her now. ‘The king is safe,’ he went on. ‘No one can touch his Ka. He has gone to join the gods. But you are still here. And you carry the succession within you.’

‘Are you telling me that I should flee from these people? I amthe queen! I will order their deaths!’

She had flared up now, and Huy was alarmed at the change in her thinking. As gently as he could, aware of the possibility of eavesdropers in the shadows, he tried to make her see the reality of her situation. That she was a prisoner, and that apart from her body servants no one would obey her. She was still too young to accept the facts he placed before her, but by the time he had finished speaking she had grown up a little more.

Her face remained sullen, as if she were reluctant to abandon her thoughts of revenge. Huy hoped that he could persuade her to set them aside for the time being at least. He knew that she would never be in a position to avenge her husband; but there was no reason why she should not remain under the illusion if it helped to ensure her safety. In a distant future it might be that her child could claim its due. After all, it had been two decades before Menkheperre Tuthmosis, greatest of pharaohs, had been able to sit unhindered on the Golden Chair.

The queen accepted his arguments at last, and fuelled with that falsest of elixirs, hope, she agreed to put the safety of her child above the value of her dignity. Huy left her alone in the hall, a tiny mortal surrounded by impossible and vacuous images of grandeur. His only prayer was that the gods would hold her in safety long enough for him to organise her escape; but he did not think that Horemheb or Ay would move against her so soon after the king’s death.

Hugging shadows, he made his way back to the harbour quarter and his own house, embracing its isolation and his familiar loneliness like friends as he entered. He drew a woollen rug around his shoulders, for lack of food and sleep had made him cold, and settled his heart by reading. Cocooned by the night, he let his senses drift. At last his eyelids drooped, but a confusion of images jarred him awake again. It was a long time before they let him go.

Huy awoke to find his lamp burnt out and the pale lilac shafts of dawn striking through the window. Stiff from having slept in a chair, he pulled himself to his feet, massaging his neck. His head felt heavy and his intellect was blurred, but after he had athed and shaved, perfumed himself and put on a clean linen kilt and new palm leaf sandals, he felt better restored than he had done in days.

Senseneb greeted him with surprise, and, he thought, pleasure, though from her face she had slept as little as he had since their last meeting. She looked vulnerable. Perhaps she had been thinking about where her future lay now. It was time that she did. She could not simply have remained her father’s daughter, living by his side, forever. The reflection did not make it any easier for Huy to tell her what he had to tell her; nevertheless, it must be done. There was nothing to be gained from keeping the truth from those you wished to enlist as your allies, though that consideration did not give him the courage to speak of her father’s murderer straight away.

He reckoned without her perceptiveness. She had called him through her heart once, and now she read his eyes without difficulty.

‘You have something important to tell me.’

‘Yes.’

‘I didn’t think you had come simply to find out how I was.’ She had turned her face away.

‘I would not have needed a greater reason.’

‘Nevertheless…’

‘There is something, yes. And it will hurt.’

‘Little could hurt me more than what has already happened.’

‘I think I know who killed Horaha.’

‘That is not bad news. Tell me.’

‘Kenamun.’

‘How?’

‘He does Horemheb’s dirty work. If he was there at the Oblation to Hapy…’

‘But he would have been there anyway, as a court official. Isn’t the connection too obvious?’

‘We know Horaha’s death was meant as a warning.’ Senseneb looked thoughtful. ‘I am sure that my father was poisoned. There is nothing I can prove. If Kenamun – or someone used by him – could have poisoned the sacred river water he drank…’

‘I would like to finish Kenamun,’ said Huy. ‘For this, and for other crimes.’

‘Let me help you,’ she said. ‘You tell me that you think he killed my father, and I believe you. Horaha has no one but me to avenge him.’

‘It will be hard to bring Kenamun down.’

They were sitting in the garden, in the same place as he had first met her with her father. Now she stood up, and paced the length of the pool impatiently. Returning to him, she said, ‘There is Ay.’

‘Yes.’

‘Have you seen him?’

‘Yes.’

‘What deal have you made with him?’

She had sat down again now, still impatient, her whole body taut, her long legs spread like a man’s, leaning forward, forearms on thighs, her head low, at an angle, looking up at him, her eyes dark and angry.

‘I have asked for more time.’

‘Why?’

Huy spread his hands. He was telling her more than he had wanted to, but found that he could not help it. It was possible too that he was tired of having no one in whom he could place trust. There was Nehesy, but he was part of the palace. Senseneb had suffered at the hands of the authorities and she was now outside them. The law, society, would no longer protect her, for she had seen it for what it was in its present guise; and she, too, needed someone to trust. Suffering is intolerable when it is endured in isolation, thought Huy; and action to end it needs help.

‘I asked for more time because I want to get Ay’s measure-He has a hold over me which I do not like. If for any reason Horemheb gets wind of what I know, or of what I am doing, before Ay is ready, Ay will toss me to him without a thought. By placating Horemheb he could buy himself more time.’

‘But don’t you have enough on Horemheb to give Ay now? Enough for him to use to bring the general down?’

‘I think so. But my knowledge is also my safe conduct. I know that Ay is hungry to be king. I must let that hunger grow greater before I feed it. Then, instead of my being in his power, he will be in mine.’

To his surprise, he found that Senseneb was looking at him with contempt. ‘I see,’ she said, tonelessly.

‘What do you see?’

She rounded on him. ‘You are playing the game like an expert, Huy. The only thing I do not understand is why you are so candid with me.’

‘What do you mean?’ Huy had been too intent on explaining his plan. He now found that he had explained it appallingly. ‘What will your price to Horemheb be? Kenamun’s head?’

‘For what?’

She laughed. ‘For Ay! I will not avenge my father through another betrayal.’

Huy was too tired to restrain himself. Fury seized him. He stood up, grabbed the woman by the shoulders and shook her hard. She broke loose and hit him with a balled fist across the mouth. He responded immediately, not thinking, feeling his right arm swing and the impact of his open hand on the side of her head. He felt briefly the softness of her cheek and the texture of her hair. He had caught her squarely off balance and she sprawled on to the couch. Before she could recover he took her roughly by the arm above the elbow and pulled her up, jerking her savagely round to face him.

‘What are you thinking? Has grief deranged you? If I cannot convince you I am not evil at least understand that I am not stupid. Do you seriously believe that I could play one regent off against the other like that? They would close tanks and crush me and then continue their battle with each other. As for Kenamun, I pray the good gods to let me find a way to get him; but not as a price to Horemheb for Ay!’

She glared at him silently, her mouth defiant; but gradually thought replaced anger in her eyes, and both their bodies relaxed. When he released her, he was shocked to see the ugly purple marks his fingers had made on her arm.

‘I thought you could read my heart,’ he said.

‘So did I. I could not believe what I saw there.’

‘You saw what you put there. What we are involved in now is cobra’s venom; it seeps into us too.’

‘You are not above using it.’

‘To survive, yes. For my own advancement, no. Not because I am moral. Because I am practical. That kind of advancement carries its own chains, its own death.’

Senseneb drew herself upright on the couch, curling her legs round her. Her body was smooth muscled, like a panther’s. The plain white mourning robe she wore had pulled tightly against her in their struggle, and she made no attempt to loosen it again. Perhaps she was not even aware of it.

‘The queen,’ Huy began, ‘the queen must leave here before she is killed. I do not think she is in danger until after the pharaoh’s funeral but I am not going to take the chance. To Horemheb she is a threat until he can father a new child. In any case he will want to get rid of her because a son or daughter in direct line from Tutankhamun could always gather forces against him. And for the same reason Ay would not flinch from killing her, if marriage to her proves impossible. But he is her grandfather, and there is a shred of hope that he could be manoeuvred into showing mercy.’

‘How?’

‘If he were convinced that she would not be a threat. He is more subtle than Horemheb and less ruthless. He is an artist, not a scientist. He is less predictable, weaker, more malleable. Above all he is vain. And as long as the general and the Master of Horse are preoccupied with each other, there is a chance that the queen may slip out between them. That is why I am playing for time.’

Her eyes were as dark as sloes. ‘I do not know why you trust me. You are too clever to trust anyone. Why are you telling me this?’

Huy was too weary of explanation to explain any more. He could not tell her that his ideas were only half thought out, that at any minute they might founder, that they were based on supposition and the hope of fortunate coincidences, that after all he was an inexperienced opportunist in too deep and principally motivated by a desire to survive. It was true that in the midst of all that were a desire to see the queen safe, and a desire to kill Kenamun, but nothing was in focus.

‘I am telling you because you of all people could not use it against me. Your father was disinterested, showed integrity, and died for it. Who on earth is going to trust you after that?’

‘You spawn of Set,’ said Senseneb after studying his face in silence for a moment or two.

Huy laughed. ‘Now you don’t believe me.’

‘But what you say is so possible.’

‘Yes; but is the reasoning?’

‘Coming from you?’ She smiled. ‘I honestly don’t know any more.’

Huy had sat down in the chair near the couch. Now he leant forward to pour the wine which Hapu had placed there when he arrived.

‘Isn’t it a little early for that?’ asked Senseneb, putting her feet on the ground and sitting up.

‘Yesterday was very long,’ said Huy. He sipped the drink he had poured and leant back, looking at the girl. Two or three strands of hair had swept across her face and she shook her head to clear them. He gazed at the columns of her neck and the collarbones that spanned her wide shoulders, then he became aware of her gaze and looked away, uncomfortably. He had become relaxed at last and here, in this delightful garden which Senseneb would only be able to enjoy for a short time more, he felt that the walls were enough to shut out the rest of the world – at least for that morning. His eyes were drawn back to her. The expression on her face was veiled, but her heart was speaking to him again and its message was clear. He put down his cup, rose, and crossed to sit next to her, touching her arm where a bruise was already developing. Her eyes were lowered, her breath was warm. She moved her head gently forwards and touched his nose with hers. Then she kissed him, fully, open-mouthed, but still lightly and quickly, drawing away as soon as she had done so. His nostrils were filled with the smell of her, close and delicious.

‘Not here,’ she said, standing and drawing him up with her. ‘My room is more comfortable.’

They hurried to the house, stomachs hollow with excitement, both needing to bury the tension and sadness of the last few days in love. The house was empty and Huy wondered what had happened to the servants – could they all have left already, except Hapu? Again she caught his thought as they reached her door on the verandah, and smiled. ‘I wanted you, and so as soon as you arrived I told Hapu to send everyone away for the morning. I know I may sound a little crazy but when I make love I like to be alone with my lover.’

The catch of the door would not give at first and she rattled it in a fit of impatience. Inside, the room was cool and white; the bed was covered with fresh sheets of soft linen. Once the door was shut, Seneseneb became the panther under her skin. The mourning robe was shrugged off in one movement. In one more she had slipped her arms round him and with cunning, hungry, practised hands taken his kilt away and embraced the Worshipper of Min between his thighs. Her lips were on his neck, plunging and sucking, and he fell back as she straddled him. All that she did had a lithe, violent impatience. She slid down his body, never removing her lips and tongue from his skin, until her mouth found him, taking him deep within her, cushioning him on her tongue, caressing his balls with one cool firm hand, while the other encircled the root of his manhood. His heart reeled, partly because of the distance from reality which exhaustion brings, partly from her demands on him, to which he was responding, to his astonishment and delight, with as much enthusiasm as they were made, i want you.’

‘I want you.’

‘I love you.’

‘I love you.’

‘Give me yourself.’

‘Give me yourself.’

He curved his body and found the entrance of her birth-cave with his tongue. Her tongue fondled the tip of his penis while he caressed her clitoris with his. Satisfied at last with the joining of the upper and lower openings, they turned to face each other, and Renenutet joined them where a man and a woman have their core.

For one hour they buried themselves in each other, and when they finally ceased, they looked into each others’ eyes like happy, wary animals, finding trust there, but also danger and mystery. She turned from him, presenting strong buttocks, and supporting herself on her arms turned her head over one shoulder to issue her next command. Past thinking, he seized her flanks and then her breasts so hard that she gasped, and gave himself to her again, feeling her softness against his hard stomach, while she reached below them to stroke him.

Still when he withdrew, neither had finished with the other, though the appetite as another hour passed became less voracious, more refined. They became aware of details: beads of sweat on a shoulder to lick off; pungent droplets in the tousle of hair between her legs and his. Their hands clasped each other like mouths which could not be satisfied; they kissed until their tongues’ roots ached. Each part of their bodies, each smooth curve, glistening, lubricated, became an empire of delight.

At last they were raw, bruised, battered, sore, sleepy, laughing, content, and lay still. He drew a sheet over them as the sweat cooled on their bodies, and they curled up together in the arms of night.

Neither had been aware for one moment of the figure watching them from beyond the window.

At the same time one of the Black Medjays kicked Nehesy hard in the stomach. His left eye was already split and closed, and they had sliced off one ear with a knife. Blood filled his mouth and he could hardly see. His heart was filled with a dark cloud, through which pain drove in the form of brilliant light. It had been worst when they pushed the needles under his fingernails.

‘You are in an ugly mess but at least you are still alive. We could patch you up, let you go, even give you your job back.’ Kenamun’s voice was patient, but it an edge now. It was three hours since they had brought Nehesy here and still, in this back room of Horemheb’s palace, its dun walls smeared with more blood than Kenamun would have thought possible if they had slaughtered an ox, the big man had refused to talk.

Strapped on his back to a heavy wooden table, Nehesy heard the voice, but it came from beyond the stars. His tongue, which he had bitten hard in his attempt to conquer his pain, and then again by accident, had swollen to fill his mouth. It no longer belonged to him; it was a lolling thing, large and clumsy, a beast in pain that had lodged inside him. His stomach, bruised and smashed, felt as if it contained folded paper. Far away below him and to his sides, his arms and legs sent back dull signals of distress. He managed to mumble something. His torn ear thundered with pain.

‘He’s finished,’ said the sergeant in charge of the detail, nervously. Kenamun took a serrated knife and sawed off Nehesy’s left hand. The huntsman bellowed with agony.

‘No, he isn’t,’ said Kenamun. ‘Plenty of life left there.’ He brought his face close to Nehesy’s, smelling his sweat and blood with excitement and distaste, thinking how much more he would enjoy doing this to a woman. But he was frightened too. Someone had found out too much. Getting rid of the doctor had not been enough.

Kenamun drew back and glanced round the drab room, wiping his knife clean on a rag. He caught a look of fear and contempt on the sergeant’s face, and noted that here was another not to be trusted. How quickly the numbers of them spiralled; those who were fine at the start but who turned out not to have the stomach for seeing the thing through. Perhaps in the end the only ones they would be able to depend on would be found within the ranks of the distant Delta army. But the two other torturers were younger – brawny, square-shouldered, ox-headed men from Busiris. They had shown no qualms during the session. They had beaten Nehesy so hard with their truncheons at the outset that it had even been necessary to restrain them. Now, they were wrapping linen rags round their fists to protect their palms from the wire lashes they were preparing to use.

Nehesy was huge. His bulk was increased by the swellings from the beating he had been given. Thinking of women, Kenamun felt again the disgust and excitement which tightened every muscle in his body.

‘Not the wire,’ said Kenamun.

He showed them what to do himself. Putting a foot in Nehesy’s right armpit, he pulled slowly at the man’s wrist until the arm was out of joint at the shoulder, if you can yell, you can talk,’ he spat at Nehesy; but the big man had Passed out.

The assistants threw water over him.

‘Now do the same to his right leg,’ said Kenamun. The sergeant left the room abruptly. Kenamun’s expression did not change. He watched them twist Nehesy’s leg until it hung limp.

‘Will you tell us who knows?’

Nehesy did not reply, but his eye still glittered. Kenamun watched as he opened his mouth to speak, but knew that Nothing would come out – not because the huntsman could not talk; but because he was still not broken.

Kenamun sighed, and took a small gadget from the table he stood at: two flat pieces of wood joined by thin wire, and a stick. He wrapped the wire under Nehesy’s left knee and twisted it tight with the stick until blood and muscle burst out and the wire grated on bone. Nehesy screamed with a violence and at a volume which made even the hard skulls of the young torturers crawl.

‘Save yourself,’ Kenamun said softly, after the scream had subsided into a sobbing whimper. ‘Bravery never mattered, never changed anything. Why give yourself all this grief?’

Nehesy spoke at last, bringing his torturer into focus. ‘May Set shit in your mouth.’

Kenamun blinked once. Perhaps the man really knew nothing. But no, that could not be. He was an experienced huntsman, he had been with the king on the last expedition. He was bound to have had suspicions. Inwardly, the police chief cursed. They had been too confident, too arrogant.

‘He can’t take any more now,’ he said. ‘Give him an hour.’ He looked at Nehesy. ‘Show some sense then, or we’ll start on your teeth. Then your other eye. Then your prick. Think about it.’

‘Shall we clean him up?’ asked one of the thugs as he turned to go. Was he imagining more faintheartedness?

‘No,’ said Kenamun.