City of the Dead

NINE

He had decided to visit her at the busiest time of day, when traders and servants were making their way to and from the pharaoh’s palace, crowding the compound, chatting and bickering in its courtyards. Dressed in a shabby kilt, his beard unshaved, dirt from the riverbank rubbed on to his face, Huy’s stocky figure disappeared in the mob of people. The difficulty was getting close to her, but the queen was expecting him, and once she had recognised him she had one of her body servants guide him through back corridors to a small room near the top of the building. There the man shaved Huy, applied make-up, and dressed his hair hastily, and gave him a clean tunic and kilt before leading him through the kitchens and then down through further corridors to another room, windowless and crammed with squat red columns, where he left him. No one who had seen the scruffy lighterman enter the palace would have associated him with the shaved and perfumed courtier who now stood waiting for Ankhsenpaamun.

She did not keep him waiting long, and when she arrived it was in haste. She swept aside formality, and he saw that though her face was worried, her eyes were clear.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

She looked at him. ‘I have no doubt you know that my chief huntsman was arrested. They tell me he was plotting against me. Do you know what really happened?’

‘He is dead,’ said Huy. ‘But I am sure that the last thing in his heart was betrayal.’

‘I agree. But there is something else. My little sisters have been sent to the Northen Capital. Ay tells me it is for them to represent the pschent for the Opet festival there; but it is the first I have heard of the Northern Capital celebrating the Opet festival as well as here.’

‘The net is closing,’ said Huy.

‘There is more still,’ the queen continued, pacing up and down, hands fluttering, unable to stay still for a moment. ‘Ay has repeated his request for a marriage.’

‘What did you tell him?’

‘I asked for time.’

‘What did he say?’

‘That I had none. He gave me five days.’

‘And then?’

‘Nothing.An empty threat.’

‘What will you tell him when the time is up?’

‘That I would rather die than marry him.’

Huy looked at her. ‘You must leave the Southern Capital.’

‘No. I will see my husband buried.’

‘You owe it to him not to join him in the grave. It is not a responsibility that is yours alone any more. You carry a god within you.’

‘A god should be able to take care of himself.’

‘When they are in us they need help. Their power is limited by the frame they inhabit.’

The queen was silent, but she continued to look obstinate. ‘Do not teach me my duty,’ she said finally; and Huy knew that he had won.

‘We must make plans quickly,’ he said cautiously, after a pause.

‘If I survive, and if I find that the king has not, after all, been given the full honour due to him, and if one day I have power to avenge the indignity, I will have horses drag you five times found the limits of the city,’ she told him icily.

‘There must be a boat. Not one of the falcon ships. I doubt if we could trust the sailors anyway,’ said Huy, having shown her with his eyes that he had taken note of her threat.

‘It is too much that I must flee my own city like a criminal,’ she said. ‘Perhaps if I consent to go – and not return – they will let me do so according to my rank.’

‘No,’ said Huy. ‘They will not.’

‘Ay is my own grandfather!’

‘We must find a boat,’ repeated Huy. in the hands of someone we can trust.’

‘Who is there?’ said the queen.

The embalmers had told Senseneb that her father would be ready for the great journey a month after the Opet festival – which still gave her fifty days in the house she had grown up in. Nevertheless, she had started to clear it, parting with most, regretfully bidding farewell to chairs, stools, papyrus rolls, tables, lamps, that she had known all her life. The things she could not bear to part with, Horaha’s medical equipment; the little statue of Imhotep – her father’s hero, the chief minister of the pharaoh Djoser and architect of the first great pyramid at Sakkara over a thousand years earlier; the images of the goddess Hathor, and of the gods Hor-Pa-Khred and Thoth, together with the best furniture and the most loved and important scrolls, she arranged to have shipped south to Napata. Although her future was uncertain, excitement and even pleasure had invaded the sadness and pessimism which had cast a shadow over her since her father’s death. If she could not avenge it, she thought, she could perhaps at least vindicate his life. And perhaps – though this was a hope she did not dare bring fully into her heart yet – her own future would not now be as bleak as she had assumed. She tried not to let herself think about Huy, though already she had started to call him her brother to herself. Her winged heart flew away from her to him, and her body became strong and fluid, like the River, when he came into her thoughts.

Unconsciously, she had begun to take leave of the house already. Once a room was emptied, its character departed immediately, and it was as if it had never had anything to do with her life, or only formed part of a half-remembered dream. Soon the whole place would be like that. What she would regret most would be the garden. Horaha and her mother had spent years creating it, and the medicinal herbs which grew there were thought by some to be the most important collection in the Black Land. As for the animals, the cats and the geese, Hapu’s family would take them.

Senseneb was engaged in clearing a room when she saw Merinakhte standing in the doorway. She stopped what she was doing and looked at him, but said nothing, waiting for him to speak first. He held his body awkwardly, his grey eyes shifting uneasily.

‘What are you doing?’ he said at last.

She resumed her activity without answering.

‘Don’t you have servants to do that?’

‘I have paid some off. Only Hapu is coming away with me. And there are things I like to do myself. In any case, you should be grateful.’

Merinakhte looked worried, it is not my fault that I have inherited your father’s job.’

‘No,’ she replied evenly, it is very fortunate.’

Not catching her irony, he said earnestly, ‘Perhaps it was something decreed by the gods.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’ He pursued the idea eagerly. It seemed that now he had plucked up the courage to speak, the words would come tumbling out of him in a flood. ‘Where are you going?’

For some reason her heart told her not to tell him. ‘I haven’t decided yet. Perhaps to the Northern Capital.’

‘Doesn’t your father have a house somewhere?’

‘Who told you that?’

‘He mentioned it once.’

‘I haven’t had time to go through all his papers.’

‘I could help you.’

She looked at him. Everything about his body was too long, except his breast and thighs, which were flabby. His tiny eyes were like the points of spears in his pale face. He kept staring at a point below her waist, and his long fingers clasped and unclasped.

‘No,’ she said.

He was silent after that, but did not leave his position by the door. He tapped one of his feet up and down, twisting it in and out of his sandal in a manner so violent that for a moment she thought it must be uncontrollable.

She tried to ignore him, biting her lip, praying that he would go; but he stayed, staring. Where, she wondered, had Hapu got to? He had gone to take water for the garden out of the well with the shaduf, but he must have been finished by now.

It was becoming impossible for her even to pretend to work.

‘What do you want?’ she asked finally, straightening and looking at him. She found that she could not bear to for more than a few seconds together.

‘You don’t have to go,’ he said, avoiding her eyes.

‘What?’

‘You don’t have to go.’ He allowed his eyes to meet hers briefly, to check how this comment had gone down, before they darted away again.

‘There’s nothing for me here any more.’

‘There could be.’

She looked at him more carefully. He was trying to smile, achieving a sneer. His arms were folded defensively across his narrow chest, each bony hand grasping a pale forearm. He was like something that lived at the dark bottom of ponds, eating whatever sank there.

‘What do you mean?’ Her scalp crawled. A horrible realisation was coming into her heart.

‘You could stay in this house. With me.’ Now the words were out he seemed almost to regret having spoken them. One hand uneasily scratched its attendant forearm. She noticed that the nails were dirty and their pressure left a livid mark on the skin. Despite herself, she imagined that hand on her body, and felt the moisture of fear and disgust on her palms and forelip. But she had to say something. He was waiting for an answer.

‘What?’ she managed finally, hoping that she kept the incredulity out of her voice.

‘With me.As my wife.’ The hand detached itself from its anchor on his forearm and made an impotent, deprecating gesture in the air. For a ghastly moment she thought she might laugh. She managed to control the hysterical impulse. Above all she had to play safe.

‘What about it? Will you be my wife?’ blurted Merinakhte awkwardly.

‘I need time – ’

‘I’ve had an eye on you for years. Ever since you came back here. I don’t mind if you’ve been used once.’

Her eyes widened in anger. ‘What?’

‘I know why your husband sent you back. But children never appealed to me.’

Her head spun. ‘I think you should leave.’

He folded his arms again, leaning insolently on the door frame. Now that he had embarked on his proposal, his assurance was growing. ‘Not without an answer.’

‘The answer is no.’

Merinakhte’s lips tightened, and the veins at his temples pulsed. Then he controlled his anger, and whined, ‘Please consider me, at least. Think, you could stay here. This would be your house. I’d let you do as you liked. You’d be mistress here. You could entertain my friends.’

‘No.’

His eyes almost vanished into his face, if you leave this house, no one will look after your garden. Who will there be? I have no time for such things. It will have to be burned out and paved over.’

She looked at him. ‘This is my house for another fifty days. You are trespassing in it. Leave now or I will have Hapu throw you out.’

He smiled nastily. ‘Now, that would be a mistake.’

‘Get out!’

He spread his hands. ‘Just a moment, please. There is something else you might like to consider before you do that.’

She made herself breathe evenly. ‘What is that?’

The unpleasant grin remained. ‘I saw you. Thrashing around, grabbing each other. He took you like a dog takes a bitch.’ The voice was quiet, but its edge was only just this side of insanity.

She looked at him, unable to speak.

‘You and Huy. Oh yes, I know his name. What’s your game with that little shit?’

‘What -?’

‘Or is he just servicing you? Must have built up, all those years without any.’

The fury broke over her like a wave, hollowing her stomach and making her head light. Immediately, cold calm followed. She knew without any doubt that as soon as it was possible she would kill this man, neatly and quickly.

He caught her thought and half laughed, half snarled. ‘I’d come over to talk to you and I heard a noise. Like pigs rutting. I watched through the window. I was quiet, but I needn’t have bothered. You two were so hard at it I could have walked through the room and you wouldn’t have noticed.’ He paused, letting the words sink in. ‘But it doesn’t matter. I’ll still have you. I enjoyed watching. Who knows? If you like it I might set you at it with some of the servants now and then. I’m sure that’d be the kind of entertainment my friends would appreciate.’

‘Why don’t you crawl back under your stone?’

‘I could have told Kenamun about you,’ continued Merinakhte. ‘It’s probably my duty, especially if humping each other isn’t all you are doing. But I love you, Senseneb, so I thought I’d be merciful. I’d do anything to keep you, my dear. And be sure of this. If I can’t have you, no one else will.’

Again she could not answer. Her throat was too try to admit speech. Her Ka seemed to float above her. She watched the scene from outside herself as if it were a dream. She tried to send a thought from her heart to Huy, but the way was blocked.

There was a noise from beyond the room. Hapu was returning from the garden.

Merinakhte eased himself away from the door jamb. ‘Think about what I have said. I am not a monster. But I will not wait long. I will be back for an answer soon.’ He smiled. ‘I am sure you will see sense. Despite the pleasures of the Fields of Aarru, we all prefer the short life we know to the eternity we do not.’

He left then, idly, not hurrying but not looking back. Senseneb’s heart stampeded over possibilities. One thing was certain: Merinakhte was wrong. If she could not destroy him, she would prefer to risk Osiris’s anger by killing herself than face a known hell on earth.

Huy had returned to his house to find Ineny waiting for him outside, idling among the handful of stallholders who set up a morning market twice a week in the little square. He greeted Huy brusquely, and hurried him towards the litter which was waiting to take them to Ay. For the second time that day, Huy set off for the palace compound. Huy noticed that Ineny was reserved once again. He was cordial, but no more than polite, and appeared disinclined to take the scribe into his confidence.

Huy did not have an opportunity to consider this return to reserve, as Ay was waiting for him in a greater state of agitation and impatience than Huy would have believed possible.

‘You must tell me what you know now. Now!’

‘I do not have the whole picture yet.’

‘Never mind that!’ Ay leant across the table between them, his arms trembling as they supported his body, his eyes showing white under the iris. ‘I want all that you have got. I was a fool to let you have so much time.’

‘What has happened?’

‘Never mind. It does not concern you. An avenue has closed. That is all you need to know.’

Huy was aware of Ineny standing behind him, but could not turn to see his expression. Had Ay told him that the queen had rejected his marriage offer? Or was the humiliation so great that he had kept it to himself?

In the interval between his interview with Ankhsenpaamun and his meeting with Ay, Huy’s heart, knowing that the last grains of sand were running through the clock with their usual and yet always unexpected rush, had constructed a plan which might cover all risks. It was a dirty plan, but it was no longer possible to fight in any other way and survive in the Black Land that was being created by this power struggle. Huy knew that the man to save the country was Horemheb; but the man to save the queen was still Ay, if he could be convinced that she was no threat to him. The way to achieve that was to ensure the throne for the old man. If, later, destiny decreed that Horemheb should succeed him, then destiny would be helped greatly by nature, for Ay was old and without a direct heir. Horemheb, too, was not the kind of man to be cast down by frustration and defeat; rather, they would make him roar the louder. For himself, he hoped for nothing more than to be far away from the city, soon, and, despite all the warnings and reservations that rose in his heart, with Senseneb.

‘Very well, if you wish it,’ he told Ay after a pause.

‘Good.’ Ay leant forward.

‘Before I begin, there are conditions.’

Ay pushed himself back off the table and paced to and fro three or four times. After controlling himself, he turned again to Huy.

‘Conditions?’ he asked. His tone was low, but his voice was strained.

‘Yes.’ Huy was also struggling to keep his voice soft, and diplomatically neutral. He did not want to betray the strain he was putting his own courage under. He wished that there were another way out, but he could see none.

‘What are they?’

Huy was still aware of Ineny at his back. His mouth was dry.

‘I want you to guarantee the safety of Queen Ankhsenpaamun.’

Ay involuntarily spread his hands, almost surprised, is that all?’

‘No, but it is important.’

‘I will assure her of my personal protection, without reservation.’ Ay looked at him, and Huy could tell from his eyes that he knew he was not believed.

‘You will also have to drop all thoughts of marrying her.’

Ay reddened. ‘What?’

‘I cannot take your word alone as sufficient guarantee of her safety.’

‘How dare -?’

‘Let us be realistic. I need to be able to take her away from here, to a place of safety, where she will not be molested by you or by Horemheb. I need your help to get her away. In return, I can give you enough damaging information concerning Horemheb’s activities to ensure that, once he knows you have it, he will not contest your claim to the Golden Chair.’

‘No information is that good.’

‘This is. The general would never hold the priesthood or the army together if it became open knowledge. No pharaoh yet has held power who has shown himself to be more of a man than a god, and Horemheb is not heaven-born.’ The last remark went home to Ay, himself a commoner, as it was intended to.

‘I will be generous,’ said Ay graciously, after a short pause for form’s sake. ‘Now, tell me what you know.’

Behind him, Huy heard a faint rustling and the scrape of a chair. Ineny had brought out a scribe’s palette and a scroll.

‘There is something else first,’ he said. ‘The queen is concerned about Nebkheprure Tutankhamun’s journey to the west.’

Ay spread his hands again. ‘He will be given a burial worthy of a great pharaoh. I am in charge of the arrangements myself.’

‘Good.’ Huy thought of the poor funeral furniture he had seen and wondered if Ay would better it. It seemed unlikely, but there was no time to bargain details. ‘Then there is another entombment.’

Ay looked at him: ‘Whose?’

‘The doctor, Horaha’s.’

‘His position guarantees him one.’

‘There may be no one to watch over him. He must be given a formal burial in full accordance with his rank, and all his names must be written down over the lintel and in the chapel. This must not be left to his successor.’

‘You have my word,’ snapped Ay impatiently. ‘But of what importance is Horaha now?’

‘You will hear.’

Ay sat down. Behind him, the sun streamed over the city and the swelling river, making a silhouette out of the old man. He sat still as rock while Huy spoke, his head lowered on to his hands. The silence was broken only by the soft swish of Ineny’s brush as he wrote. Huy told him of the king’s death, of his meeting with Nehesy, about finding the dead tracker with his fistful of silver; about the uninjured horses, and about what Horaha had thought about the king’s injuries. Finally he told him about Horaha’s death, and Nehesy’s arrest and torture. He did not mention where Nehesy was now. The man deserved his peace.

‘Even the threat of an inquiry in any of those areas would stop Horemheb in his tracks,’ said Ay, when Huy had finished. He looked at him. ‘You have done well. But I need proof.’

‘Horaha’s reservations can be demonstrated.’

‘How?’

‘The king’s body is being preserved. No one can disguise the wound on the skull now. If you can lay hands on the chariot, you have a case. But I think all you need do is mention that to Horemheb. You are too powerful for him to destroy; and he cannot kill everyone.’

‘I wonder,’ said Ay.

‘I mean, he has not that much power. But then there is me.’

In the act of rising, Ay looked at him again and sat down.

‘You?’

‘I collected these facts and have a record of them. I am still alive.’

‘Yes?’

Huy hesitated fractionally before continuing. ‘Forgive me, but I cannot trust you absolutely. Now you have what you need, I run the risk of becoming dispensable – I, and all that I seek as a reward.’

‘Your conditions?’

‘Yes.’

‘They make an easy reward to grant. And I give you my word as pharaoh-elect.’ Ay seemed to grow physically as he spoke the words. The new thought occurring to his heart threw years off the lined face. ‘You are lucky that I am pleased with you. I am not offended by what you say. But do not try me too hard.’

‘I know that you are a wise man. Therefore I know too that you are aware of the threat that the queen’s life, and the one within her, pose to the future of your line.’ Huy paused. ‘I must tell you that if I find myself crossed in any way, I will go to Horemheb and warn him. If anything happens to me, the record I have made of these events will go to him. It is safe, in a place you will never locate, and I have made arrangements with friends in the harbour quarter who are such little eels that they will always wriggle through your fingers if you attempt to catch them. But they have strong jaws.’ Privately, Huy wished that he had indeed made such a record.

Ay turned in on himself, the fingers of each hand touching one another at the tips. His face was turned downwards, and it was impossible to see the expression on his face.

‘Do you have a plan for the queen’s departure?’

'Of sorts.’

‘But have you considered Horemheb? You might have to trust me, for all your skill; but if Horemheb thinks that she is alive – wherever she is in the Black Land – he will not rest until he has hunted her down and killed her. And her child.

He has the means to do it, too, Huy. Even if I beat him now, I cannot strip him of his power without risking a division of the army. And we cannot have that.’

‘I have thought of what to do.’ In reality, Huy had only the sketchiest of plans, and a weak and dangerous one.

Ay smiled. ‘I have often said that you were a clever man, Huy.’ He paused delicately. ‘I suppose it is a waste of time to offer you land when I become pharaoh? In return for your service, of course.’

‘Yes.’

Ay pursed his lips. ‘Then you shall have your wish. Ineny will escort you to the gate.’ He stood up. Ineny packed up his palette and prepared to stow the rolled parchment under his arm.

‘Leave that with me, Ineny,’ said the old Master of Horse.

She was not at their meeting place. Huy squatted down on the flat rock which jutted out forming a ledge over the surface of the River and watched the sluggish, patient water pass. Idling the time away with his thoughts at first, for he was early and felt no alarm, he let his heart drift with the current as it proceeded on its eternal journey north, knowing that this water was the Black Land; that it would flow here long after the pyramids had crumbled to dust and even the memory of them been lost. What was happening now, what seemed of such monumental importance to him and to his own little life, would not affect the future one iota. He thought as far ahead as his imagination would run. Perhaps there were more countries, even beyond those bordering the Great Green to the north and the forests far to the south. Was there life in those countries? Would they, too, one day be discovered, visited, colonised?

Such considerations made him wince. They did not matter to him. He might only be a speck in the scheme of time and space, but the immediate world to which he was condemned surrounded him with matters whose reality and importance could not be reduced just by thinking about them in relative terms. An attacking lion was an attacking lion, no matter how little time and space its action occupied.

The sun dipped over the western horizon and at last Huy felt the coolness of the north wind on his face. He blinked his tired eyes slowly, gratefully. But he did not relax. Senseneb was late now. He settled himself with his back to another rock and, instead of simply continuing to wait, kept watch. His apparent victory with Ay by no means meant that the game was over.

Darkness descended suddenly, and immediately the small, pale lights that mankind lit to keep it at bay appeared on both banks of the River. The flat rock stood at a point just to the south of the city where few people passed at night. Senseneb would have been here before sunset if she was coming at all. Still he waited, though now he knew that it was in vain. After half an hour he stood up, and, still uncertain what to do, made his way back to the city.

By the time he had reached the outskirts he had decided to risk going to her house. In his heart he ran over what the possibilities might be, raking through his memory for any sin of omission or commission which might have led to this. He told himself that it might be nothing at all even though he knew that now any mistake, any irregularity, any broken promise, however small, was not only important but vital.

As he walked through the already deserted streets he began to have second thoughts about visiting Senseneb. It was necessary to keep her out of this, he said to himself. But another part of his heart was desperate to know what had happened to her. The streets were dark, only punctuated by the occasional pale shaft of light from a window where a lamp shone, though the moon was still bright enough to illuminate the middle of the broadest roads. Khons’s chariot had not yet turned so far away from the earth that only a sliver of it could be seen at night.

He walked where the moonlight met the shadow, moving as softly as a cat. The few people he encountered walked past quickly, just allowing eyes to meet briefly for reassurance. Here and there on a corner a drinking house splashed more light, but the windows were small, and the sound from within was muted.

Making his way across the city he had to pass through the harbour quarter. It occurred to him quite irrationally that Senseneb might have gone to his house, so he turned down the side street which led to his little square. The street was narrow and plunged into deep shadow; Huy had not walked twelve paces down it before a hand reached out and grasped his right arm. He stopped dead and reached behind him with his left hand for his knife, but her voice arrested his action.

‘Huy.’ Senseneb’s face emerged from the darkness like the moon from behind a cloud.

Before he could ask questions she put a finger to her lips and led him back the way they had come. She seemed to know her way through the twisting streets of the quarter as well as he did. After a short time they arrived at the quayside. They stopped by a warehouse wall from where they had a broad view of every approach.

‘What’s happened?’ asked Huy, keeping his voice low. He was disturbed at how tightly Senseneb held on to his arm, as a child might, returned to its parent after a beating. Calmly, deliberately, but making a visible effort to keep her voice steady, she told him.

‘I didn’t dare come to meet you in case he followed me. So I went out several times on false errands and returned home. Then I left again and took a rickshaw. I came down to the centre, to the Great Temple of Amun, and got off there. I was so scared I thought at first that I’d bring Hapu with me; but then I thought it’d be better to leave him to guard the house. As soon as I’d made sure Merinakhte hadn’t followed me I went down to the harbour quarter and hid in that street, where I could see the square and your house. I don’t think anyone paid much attention to me, though one man stopped and offered me two deben of copper to go with him. I told him I was worth twice that, and he left.’ She laughed, but then almost immediately started to cry, softly but painfully, turning her face to Huy, nestling up to him and cradling herself in his arms. He held her gently, saying nothing.

At length she was quiet. The kohl around her eyes had run with her tears and he dabbed at it with a fold of his shawl, eliciting a smile again.

‘What shall we do?’

‘No one is going to betray you to Kenamun,’ said Huy, ‘but you must go back home.’

‘No!’

‘It will not be for long. How much have you told Hapu?’

‘He knows that Merinakhte is not welcome. He hates him anyway. That house was as much Hapu’s home as mine.’

‘Whatever happens, Hapu must stay there. You must not make it look as if you are leaving.’ He held up his hand as she opened her mouth to object, it is all right. We will be able to make arrangements for Hapu to follow us after we are gone, if he wishes it.’

‘And when will that be?’

‘Soon.’

‘But my father – ’

Huy looked at her. ‘There is no time to talk of that now. But do not worry. I will come to you soon. I will take every precaution. I must arrange for the queen’s departure. Ay has agreed to it but I must move fast in case he changes his mind.’

‘Can I help you?’

‘Your help will be vital, if all goes well. But not yet.’ He made a move to go.

‘Huy.’ She touched his lips with her fingers.

‘Be brave.’

‘I am terrified.’

‘So am I.’

They smiled at each other, touched foreheads, and kissed. ‘Now go,’ he said.

As Senseneb drew away from Huy and hurried into the night Horemheb, in the low dark workroom of his palace, angrily crushed a document in one large fist and glared up at the two men who stood opposite him. Illuminated from below by the lamps on the table, they looked like demons. One wore an expression of uneasy pleasure. The other looked taut, and angry.

‘What Ineny has just told us is very interesting,’ Horemheb said, turning from Ay’s servant to Kenamun. it makes me wonder what our people have been doing. From your reports I thought that everything was in order.’ it is. This is a new development, but not unexpected.’ Kenamun ran his tongue over his lips. Huy again. He had not forgotten their encounter years earlier, and his regret was that he had not finished him then. His misguided gratitude for the little scribe’s help in solving a case was rebounding on him now.

‘This man Huy is a former servant of the Great Criminal,’ put in Ineny.

‘Yes,’ replied Horemheb. ‘I met him once myself. We have underestimated him.’

‘He is nobody,’ said Kenamun. is he? He has managed to be a thorn in our side.’

‘I know where he lives. I’ll deal with him,’ said Kenamun, eager to recover lost ground.

‘Be careful,’ said Ineny. ‘He is under Ay’s protection.’ Kenamun looked at him with contempt. Horemheb ignored them both, retreating into his thoughts. Ineny’s information had come too late. If the man had decided to change sides earlier, things might have been different. He smoothed out the paper he had crumpled. It was a summons from Ay to a meeting, to be attended by the chief priest of Amun and the vizir of the Southern Land, the following morning. That Ay should suddenly have the assurance to summon him to a meeting was a shock. His shoulders slumped. At least he had the advantage of knowing what to expect. They might be able to block him, but they could not destroy him. And if it meant that he had to let Ay wear the pschent and become pharaoh, what then? He had ten years on the old man, and Nezemmut was young. She would have more children.

Still he could have done without this. He looked up at the two greedy, sullen, expectant faces above him. A pair of Set’s vampires, and worth about as much. Perhaps he had used the wrong tools to climb with.

Irresistibly, his thoughts turned to the armies in the north. He had always been more of a soldier than a politician. He would see what could be salvaged from the wreck. In the meantime…

Pointing at Ineny he looked at Kenamun. ‘Pay this shit off and get Huy,’ he said. ‘Now. Tonight. Yourself.’

He rose and crossed to the window, dismissing them with his back. A petty revenge, killing Huy. Like stamping on a scorpion after it had stung you. He heard the men leave the room, the hasty scuffle of their feet on the floor. But if Huy killed Kenamun, that would be no loss. Kenamun had ceased to be useful now.

After leaving Senseneb, Huy returned to his house, but he did not stay long. He washed and changed quickly, filled his purse, and made his way quickly down the street to another square. This was almost as empty as the one on which he lived; but on one corner there was a dingy drinking house, and in the middle of the wall opposite was a low entrance with a sign above it 'it by an oil lamp: City of Dreams. It was a brothel, a familiar place which he had occasionally used, along with the rivermen, tradesmen and craftsmen who lived in the harbour quarter. It was run by a fat Nubian called Nubenehem who had grown so large that she was virtually incapable of moving from the couch she inhabited behind the low table from which she conducted her affairs in the entrance of the house. The dimly-lit room was dominated these days by a statue of the god Min, adorned with an erection of prodigious length and width.

Nubenehem was more than a friend. She had been Huy’s accomplice, provider and, now and then, confessor. But he had never begged a favour like the one he asked now.

The idea seemed ramshackle, even to him; but with Senseneb’s medical skill, and Nubenehem’s limitless contacts in the harbour quarter, it might work.

The fat Nubian was dealing with a client, a spindly young man who stood by nervously while his equally spindly father negotiated for a girl to initiate his son. When the youth saw Huy he turned away and studied the wall behind him with great attention.

His father was trying to beat Nubenehem’s price down. ‘But you want a good girl,’ she was saying. ‘By the gods, if you set him off with a cut-rate one, what kind of impression is he going to have of women?’

‘I won’t pay more than one piece.’

She spread her hands, a comical expression of distress covering her suffocating features. ‘We don’t have any girls for under one kitë. That’s our lowest rate.’ She appeared to consider, catching Huy’s eye. ‘Look, I’ll tell you what we could do. Little Kafy is between clients – well, she’s not so little these days, but she’s had plenty of experience – and I could let him have her for half an hour now for one and a half kitë of silver. The gentleman who’s just come in knows her. He’ll vouch for her.’

After the matter had been settled and Kafy had been summoned for the father’s approval, draping her ample body round the apprehensive boy before leading him off, with his watchful father in attendance, into the brothel’s interior, Nubenehem turned to Huy.

‘Do I recognise you?’

‘A moment ago you did.’

‘Huy.’

‘Am I that much of a stranger?’

‘If all my clients were like you I wouldn’t be here any more.’

‘I’m here to ask you something.’

‘I’m relieved. For just a moment I thought you might have missed me. Did you see how fat Kafy’s become? She eats to console herself. She misses you.’

‘Will you help me?’

Nubenehem gave him what passed for a smile: the folds around her mouth arranged themselves more comfortably. ‘You know me. If you pay me, I’ll help you.’

Huy licked his lips.

‘That difficult, is it?’ asked Nubenehem.

‘I need a body.’

‘What?’

‘A corpse.A girl’s dead body.’

Nubenehem half rose, despite herself. ‘Now I know you’ve gone mad.’

‘Can you get one?’

‘No.’

‘It is very important.’

Nubenehem looked at him. ‘I can get you all the live girls you want. But when they’re dead, they need a little peace.’

‘This one will have peace. She will get a better burial than she would ever have dreamed of, and her Ka will live in the valley.’

Now Nubenehem sat up. ‘What?’

‘I need a dead body,’ repeated Huy. ‘A girl who looks like Queen Ankhsenpaamun. Have you seen her? Do you know what she looks like?’

‘I have seen her. But what you are asking is impossible. Sure People die, young people die, young girls die; but not to order. When do you need it anyway?’

‘Now.’

‘Be serious.’

‘Within the next two days.’

‘I asked you to be serious.’

‘She need not be identical. People change in death. But she must bear a good passing resemblance. So that with make-up we can disguise her as the queen.’

Nubenehem said nothing for a moment. She looked inwards. From the depths of the house beyond came a burst of music, played badly on a lute, and a theatrical squeal of pleasure. ‘What are you doing, Huy?’

‘I cannot tell you, and you would not want to know.’

‘You are right, I would not.’ She paused again. ‘Are you sure you are not flying too high at last?’

‘It is like being a child on a swing,’ he replied, it goes up and up, forwards and back, and usually when it is too high you can stop it by ceasing to use your body as a pendulum. The swing that I am on has its ropes attached to the sky, and it has pulled me further and further, higher and higher, until I can look down and see the whole earth beneath me. And I cannot stop it, Nubenehem. All I can do to get back to safety is jump off.’

‘And break your neck?’

‘There is that risk. But there is no choice.’

Nubenehem was silent again, but not for long.

‘I will help you.’ For a moment Huy thought her look was sympathetic; but then the craftiness crept back into her eyes, it will cost you plenty; I have no idea if I can find what you want, and I do not know what excuse I can find to stop tongues blabbing. Fortunately in this part of town death is frequent and the population shifts.’ She looked up at him. ‘I need some money now.’

Huy opened his purse. ‘How much?’

Once he had concluded his business, he crossed the square quickly to the drinking house and ordered a jar of fig liquor and a bowl of sunflower seeds. He found a place on a bench and squeezed into it, his back to the wall, looking round the small plain room at his companions. They were all locals, some of them known to him, and he had lived in the quarter long enough not to be an object of curiosity for them.

He also needed to think about how he was going to finance the queen’s escape without her co-operation. He doubted if Ay would underwrite the hire of a boat and Nubenehem’s fee completely. He drank some of the liquor. It was poorly made and scorched his throat. Perhaps he would have to take Ay further into his confidence.

Much later, and still uncertain, he made his way back to his house.

He had reached the edge of the square before he realised that something was wrong. He stood still, in the shadow of the nearest building. Some of the market traders had not dismantled their tumbledown stalls, and he looked in their direction. From a bundle of abandoned sacking which had contained fruit, first the snout and then the body of a large black rat emerged. Satisfied that all was well, it waddled across the centre of the square. Huy followed it with his eyes until it disappeared into the shadow of the opposite wall. Still Huy waited, alert as a fox in open desert, but nothing moved.

Finally, he started on his way again, but, lacking the assurance of the rat, he skirted the walls until he reached his door. There was still nothing, and there was nothing when he went in; but his unease did not leave him. Quietly he climbed the narrow steps that led up to the bedroom, but everything was as he had left it. He descended again and made his way through the main room to the bathroom at the back, where he saw that he had not refilled the wooden water bucket. The room, and the small courtyard at the back, were deserted.

He returned to the front of the house, but he had begun to relax, and he did not see the knife soon enough. It sliced upwards, cutting his cheek to the bone, which stopped the blade just below his left eye. Gasping, he pulled backwards, aware how the liquor had slowed him. Blood filled his mouth and he choked on it. His eyes watered so that he could not focus on the lean figure in front of him.

‘Hello, Huy,’ said Kenamun. The knife plunged forwards again, but Huy managed to shrink back and it cut air.

‘You shit; you nearly destroyed me,’ said Kenamun, breathing hard. Huy noticed that, and wondered how fit the man was. His actions were fast enough, certainly. He tried to reply, but the blood that kept pouring into his mouth would not let him. He risked drowning in it, he knew. He made himself breathe through his nose but the knife had cut into the back of it and now his nostrils filled with blood too. He spat out a beakerful and gulped air.

Kenamun must have seen what a mess his victim was in because he relaxed, straightening and holding the knife slack. He pushed Huy gently in the chest with the flat of his hand. Huy staggered back a pace into the bathroom, but kept his balance.

‘You are dying,’ said Kenamun. He pushed Huy again, harder. Spitting and gulping, Huy fell back against the wall, his arms sprawling, his hands grabbing for support as he slid to the floor.

Kenamun leant over him. Huy could see the grinning face, the pencil beard, through a haze of blood, i think you have been getting ideas above your station, Huy,’ he said, if Ay’s fat little servant hadn’t got greedy your little bit of palace intrigue would have cost me my neck. It’s all right now, that’s why I’m here; I’ve been sent to kill you. But first I think you need cutting down to size.’

The fingers of Huy’s right hand had found the handle of the wooden bucket. If he had remembered to fill it it would have been too heavy to lift. Realising that Kenamun was enjoying his moment too much, he filled his lungs with one more large breath for the effort and lifted the bucket, hurling it through the air at the end of his arm. Its copper-bound side caught Kenamun on the side of the head and Huy heard bone split. He felt rather than saw the man fall, and heard the clatter of the knife as it hit the stone bathing platform. Blood filled his universe. He struck out blindly, defensively, as he brought himself to his knees, but connected with nothing but the air. Crawling forwards, not losing his grip on the bucket, he reached out with his left hand in the direction he had sensed Kenamun fall.

He felt the cloth of his robe and then he had his hand on the man’s chest. Kenamun rolled out of his reach. He raised himself on to his knees, slipping on his own blood. Below him he could just focus on a long object, like a rolled rug, which rocked to and fro, to and fro. He raised the bucket above his head and brought it crashing down with all his force, gasping and gagging on the blood which continued to bubble into his mouth and choke his nostrils. Recovering his balance, he panicked, for he could not see the body. Had Kenamun got up? Reached the knife?

He made his eyes focus, searching the floor, dragging the bucket with him as he pulled himself forward. There he was. He had rolled out of reach again, that was all. He tried to decide which end the head was. Objects swam in front of his streaming vision; water and blood obscured it. Suddenly he was aware of fingers reaching towards his eyes. One of Kenamun’s hands clawed into the wound in Huy’s cheek and gripped. He raised the bucket again, and smashed it down, thinking, this is for Nehesy, but also feeling, this is for myself. You must die. I must be sure you are dead. I fear you too much. The bucket hit the ground, and jarred out of his hand. He heard the wood splinter. Frantic, he scrambled after it, seized it, and raised it again. This time it hit home and Kenamun’s body, after one convulsion and a long rattling sigh which was the only sound it had made since it first fell, lay still.