House of Dreams (20 page)

It was Kaha with whom I shared the emotions that the day-to-day realities of my new existence brought. I suppose that Disenk should have become a friend, but our relationship was not clearly enough defined. She was my body servant, therefore she was my subordinate. But she was also my teacher and my jailer, under direct orders from Harshira, and I came to resent the pretence that I could command her in any but the most trivial way. The situation must have been trying for her also, and knowing her fastidiousness and her rather snobbish nature, it must have been difficult for her to bow to an ignorant peasant from the desert. I expect that she in her turn resented her position at times but she hid her feelings well, as any good servant should.

I vastly preferred Kaha’s male frankness to what I arrogantly saw as Disenk’s shallowness. I knew how to talk to Kaha and even Harshira. I did not know how to converse politely with Disenk. Of course, I tended to take women too lightly, and one day Disenk surprised me. I had asked her where she had come from. She misunderstood my question.

“I was Chief Cosmetician in the household of Usermaarenakht, the High Priest of Amun,” she told me, much to my surprise. She was mending one of my sheaths at the time, restitching the seam I had automatically ripped so that I could walk more freely. I did this now as a matter of course when I was dressed, and Disenk just as methodically sewed up the seam again. It had become a silent battle of wills. “I was also chief body servant to his wife,” she added. Then she fell silent. I had been sprawling on cushions on the floor, watching her. Now I sat up.

“Well?” I prompted her. “Go on, Disenk. What is the First Prophet’s household like? What kind of a man is he? How did you come to be working for the Master?”

She had run out of thread. Severing it with one decisive slash of her tiny, sharp knife she reached for another strand. She was sitting at the low table under the window so that the afternoon light could fall on her work and the sun caught her burnished cap of hair as she leaned forward.

“The First Prophet’s wife was a childhood friend of the Master’s sister the Lady Kawit,” she explained, drawing the thread between her tiny hands. “For a time they and other friends of the schoolroom would feast together every month. I would be there to repair their face-paint when necessary. The Lady Kawit praised my work and eventually persuaded me to leave the High Priest’s employ and go to her house.” She threaded her needle and picked up my sheath. “It was a happy arrangement. But when the Master knew you were coming he asked his sister to relinquish my services. I am now at his disposal.” She did not look at me and I got the impression that she felt she had said too much.

“Are you saying that Hui borrowed you from his sister solely to care for me?” I was bewildered. “And what of this sister? Where does she live?”

“The Lady Kawit and her husband have an estate just out of the city,” Disenk said calmly. I waited but she had pursed her perfectly painted lips and was plying the needle industriously.

“But are you just as happy here?” I wanted to know. “Were you angry at having to serve me? Will you go back to the Lady Kawit soon?” She smiled at the mild trap I had laid for her.

“I am at the Master’s disposal now, Thu,” she repeated dutifully and I saw that I would get no more out of her in that regard.

“Were you happy in the High Priest’s household?” I pressed. Her nostrils flared delicately. She placed the sheath on the table and smoothed it out, surveying her stitches critically, and I thought that once again she would refuse to reply. She shot me a glance and resumed her work. I noticed that she was sewing over a portion that was already mended. Either Disenk was becoming upset or she was determined that the linen itself would tear before her stitches gave way under my tugging.

“It is not correct for a servant to gossip about her employer,” she said primly.

“But don’t servants gossip amongst each other?” I shot back. “And aren’t I being prepared for a position as a different kind of servant? Besides, I am not asking you for gossip but for your feelings.” She sighed.

“You are a hippopotamus, Thu. You are a battle chariot, rolling over me. No, I was not happy in that place. It offended me.”

“Did they forget to use their fingerbowls between courses?” I teased her. Her feathered brows drew together.

“Oh no,” she said. “They are very rich, very cultured. The High Priest’s father, Meribast, is Pharaoh’s Chief Taxing Master and he is also Overseer of All the Prophets of Khmun. The High Priest himself has many influential friends and the house was always full of important people.” Once more the knife glittered in the sun, the thread was sliced, and Disenk folded the sheath and began to tidy away her utensils. I smiled inwardly, thinking how this must have pleased her snobbish little heart, but she looked at me solemnly. “But not the right kind of people,” she went on. “First, Second and Third Prophets of Amun and Montu and Nekhbet and Horus, dancers and chantresses of the gods, overseers of their cattle and their treasuries. But no princes and nobles, no people of the correct blood. The High Priest and his wife behaved as though they were royal. The house was full of curious and beautiful things. They adorned themselves in silver and electrum. They spoke disparagingly of the royal family. One can inherit power,” she finished priggishly, “but power will not confer noble blood. One is born to the nobility or one is not. The High Priest was not. I only thank the gods that Pharaoh has not been persuaded to allow his nobles to marry beneath them.” So, I thought. It is as Kaha says.

“You must hate having to serve me,” I said drily, and she leapt to her feet, hands fluttering.

“No no, Thu!” she assured me earnestly. “Not at all. I am happy to obey the Master, therefore it is my pleasure to serve you.”

“And is the Master a noble?” I said sardonically. She blinked at me.

“But of course,” she replied.

She had given me a great deal to think about. I was young, but I was no fool. Had Hui deliberately collected all these malcontents under his roof, or was every nobleman’s household as full of dissatisfaction? I had no way of knowing and besides, it had little to do with me. I would eventually perform the duties for which I was being prepared, and leave matters of greater import to my superiors.

The information about Hui’s family intrigued me more. Someone months ago had mentioned the fact that he had relatives, but I had forgotten. He had always seemed to be one of a kind, aloof, alone and self-generating, but now there was a sister, the Lady Kawit. What was she like? Was she also a sliver of whiteness, the moon incarnate? Disenk had not said so, but then Disenk was usually a model of decorum.

Occasionally I continued to see the Master pass almost beneath my window as I crouched there in darkness. He was always muffled in linen and trailed by Kenna as he went to swim privately in his pool. I only accosted him once, on the night that Disenk had told me a little of her story. On impulse I leaned out of the window and called him in a low voice, not expecting him to hear, but he came to a halt and looked up. There was no moon then and his face was an indistinguishable blur.

“What is it, Thu?” he called back softly. “Are you well? Are you happy?”

“Yes,” I answered, knowing that it was the truth. “But tell me, Master, do you have kin besides the Lady Kawit?” I had taken him aback. I saw him start and recover, then he chuckled.

“Prurient curiosity is not an attractive trait in a young girl,” he said drily. “Besides Kawit I have one brother and one other sister.” He signalled to Kenna and turned away but I leaned further and forestalled him.

“Master!” I was ashamed of myself and yet burning to know. “Are they … Are they …” He looked back at me briefly.

“No, Thu,” he said coolly. “They are not.” He continued across the courtyard, a regal, ghostly figure merging into the shadows.

“Impudent child!” Kenna hissed before he too hurried on and I decided, as I let the window mat fall and tiptoed across the room to my couch, that Kenna had probably been employed as an Overseer of Prisoners working the gold mines in the burning wastes of the Nubian desert before he had found his way into Hui’s service. I could easily see him flogging and torturing the hapless criminals and licking his lips with pleasure as they gasped for the water that he denied them.

That night I dreamed that I was the one with the whip and Kenna the grovelling slave. He was filthy, terror-stricken and emaciated. He was also stark naked. I awoke in a glorious flush of heat that had nothing to do with Ra’s appearance in the eastern sky, my nipples hard and my loins moist, and for the first time I arrived at the pool for my morning exercise before Nebnefer. I felt full of vitality.

In the world outside, the crops were sown, grew to maturity, and were harvested. Shemu began. Egypt died, as she did every year at this season. The ground cracked and turned to dust. Everything living crawled into whatever shade could be found and lay drained and helpless under the sun’s fierce onslaught.

At least, that is how it always was at Aswat. Here in the Delta, on Hui’s estate, the heat was certainly intense and the air dry. But the watered gardens remained lush and green, the foliage of the trees fragrant and dense. The months slid by. Pakhons became Payni and then it was the beginning of Epophi and my Naming Day. I was fourteen years old.

The morning began with an early rising and a walk to the pool through air that had already lost its fleeting freshness as Ra opened his mouth and breathed fire over the earth. Nebnefer was unusually bad-tempered, standing waist deep in the water with his fists bunched against his hips as he yelled at me to pull harder, go faster, so that by the time I scrambled over the lip and began my stretches I was wondering why I had been born at all. I was, I confess, feeling sorry for myself. At home my day would have begun with extra sleep, and some simple gift would have been placed by my dish as I ate the morning meal. I would have been escorted to the temple with my whole family so that they and I could give thanks for my life and health. I would have laid some precious possession, a favourite toy perhaps or a vial of oils I had mixed carefully myself, at the feet of Wepwawet’s High Priest, and in the evening the friends of the family would have gathered to drink wine and eat the special sweetmeats my mother prepared for me once a year. Not that I had enjoyed many friends. On the few occasions when a couple of the village girls had darkened our door for my naming day I had resented the way they gobbled up the treats and depleted my father’s meagre stock of expensive wine.

But here, I thought mutinously as a slave held a sunshade over me and I walked back to the house, there is no celebration. No one cares that today I am fourteen years old, the age of betrothal in the village, the age of new womanhood. Sullenly I submitted to the routine of massage, dressing and cosmetic application that usually pleased me, and in my pretty sandals I slap-slapped my way briskly to Kaha’s office for my first lesson, pausing to savagely rip at the seam of my sheath. Disenk had surpassed herself. The threads held but the fabric, so fine, so transparent and soft, tore with a tiny ripping sound. I did not consider how only a year ago such material would have filled me with awe and I would have handled it with gentle reverence. Now I ran down the stairs, strode along the passage, and knocked on Kaha’s door with nothing in my mind but the rather spiteful thought that Disenk would have a long hour of mending in the evening. Or I would be issued with a new sheath. Perhaps a yellow one this time. I hoped so.

Kaha opened for me, but instead of ushering me within he came out and took my hand. He was smiling. “Come,” he said, tugging me further along the passage. “School is over for you, my little Libu princess. Today you graduate from Kaha’s lessons.” We had come quickly to a pair of imposing double doors where the passage terminated. They gave off the expensive, subtle aroma of Lebanon cedar. Kaha rapped twice, then bent and kissed my cheek. “I congratulate you—I think,” he grinned. “You are now in the hands of a much more severe taskmaster than I, whereas I can cheerfully hand you over and spend the rest of my day wandering in the markets of the city. May the gods smile on you, Thu.” He turned on his heel and walked back along the passage. I was too dumbfounded to call after him, and, in any case, one of the doors was sliding open. I swung round. Ani was bowing me inside. Rather unsteadily I passed him and the door was closed behind me. I looked back. Ani had gone.

“Do not stand there with one foot across the other like a dazed heron,” an annoyed voice commanded. “Haven’t you learned anything in the past year? Come here.”

Chastened, my heart thumping against my ribs and my palms suddenly wet, I did as I was told. Hui rose from behind the desk. He wore a voluminous white tunic whose many crisp pleats unfolded across his upper arms. His white kilt was also pleated to his knees. Otherwise, his pale flesh was unadorned by jewellery, although his red eyes, those frightening demon eyes, were circled in black kohl. The effect was startlingly magnetic. His stark white hair had been pulled up and back from his face and braided so that it fell in one thick plait between his shoulder blades. Deliberately he placed both palms on the desk.

“Go back upstairs,” he said coldly, “and change your sheath. If you tear the seams any more you will sew them up yourself. Is that understood?” I nodded dumbly. “Good. I do not want to see you come in here unkempt every morning. Go.” I hurried to do as I was told. Every morning, he had said. Every morning! My life was to change again. I flew up the stairs and burst into my room, eyes shining.

“A fresh sheath, at once!” I shouted at Disenk. “And I promise I will walk like a lady from now on! I am to work with the Master!” She smiled, completely unsurprised, and going to the chest, extracted a garment. I could hardly stand still while she removed the mutilated one. I was ridiculously happy.

Outside his doors again I smoothed the fresh sheath over my hips and pulled the ends of my red hair ribbon to lie on either side of my neck. My hands were clean and I could see no dry skin on my calves and feet. I took a deep breath, knocked, and went in. This time he smiled.