House of Dreams (61 page)

When I entered my cell Disenk regarded me anxiously. “Thu! You are crying!” she exclaimed. I went straight to my couch and flung myself upon it.

“Open my medicine box and bring me the tincture of poppy and a cup of water,” I ordered her. “I must sleep, Disenk. If I do not sleep I shall go mad!” She pursed her lips but did as she was told, and I drank the poppy and water in one draught then lay back and closed my eyes. As the drug began to take effect and my mind quietened I was assailed by a violent but momentary vision of Kenna, grey-faced and dying, his eyes full of torment. Then the poppy claimed me and with it, a blessed peace.

I needed it to sleep again that night, for an anxiety greater than I had ever known seized me with the coming of darkness and I started and cried out at every moving shadow, every sound. Even Pentauru with his winning baby ways could not soothe my terror, indeed it seemed to infect him for he became fractious and irritable in my arms. I dosed both of us. He responded to the poppy at once but I lay for an eternity before I succumbed, shivering at the way the spear of dancing lamplight created vague shapes that loomed threateningly over me and performed a sinister dance on my walls. The drug produced incoherent dreams and I woke late and thickheaded to another hot, bright day of almost insupportable tension.

I spent it sitting on cushions outside my door, Pentauru on a sheet beside me. Fear and anticipation arrowed through me every time someone approached, and sweat washed my limbs as he or she passed me by. I could not eat, but drank beer steadily to unloose the knot in my stomach that would not be moved.

Once a servant did halt before me, and a great wave of nausea rolled up my throat as he bowed and extended a scroll, but it was only a communication from the Overseer of my estate. The crops had sprung up strong and free of disease and he wished to begin the harvest at the end of Pakhons. Did I wish to travel to the Fayum to witness the gathering? I thanked the man and sent him away, then I sat with the papyrus gripped in my lap, staring unseeingly out at the noisy, populated courtyard. In my mind’s eye the curved sickles sliced cleanly through the proud stalks of my grain and the golden bounty quivered and fell, quivered and fell as the harvesters advanced across the field. Yet, though I eagerly sought diversion in the vision, it began to acquire the ponderous and chilling inevitability of a killing rite. My hand held the sickle, raised it, swept it through the burning air, and over and over again Ramses toppled to the earth, blood gushing from his mouth and staining my feet. Powerless to control the vivid inner mirage I was forced to endure it until it finally faded. I longed for oblivion but did not dare to swallow more poppy. The life of the Children’s Quarters went on cheerfully and prosaically around me and I knew that my insane vigil would continue for another day. The prospect was almost insupportable.

In the early afternoon the courtyard emptied of women and filled with the heavy, hot silence of sleep. I went to my couch but lay staring at my ceiling until I heard life begin again outside. Then I resumed my place. Disenk brought out the sennet board and tried to persuade me to play, but though I fingered the cones and spools, I was afraid to commit myself to a game that engaged cosmic forces as well as the intelligence of the participants. If I lost, if I ended on the square that denoted a plunge into deep waters, I would know for certain that the gods had abandoned me. It was better not to know.

I succumbed to the need for more poppy that night, but the amount I drank did not produce full unconsciousness and I wandered in a twilight world of half-sleep where Pharaoh and I laughed and talked in his bedchamber, loving and carefree. But the colour and animation of that fantasy drained away, leaving me sitting bolt upright and wide awake in the hour when night’s dark hand has a choking hold on man and beast alike and even sounds are muffled. With heart thumping I strained into the dimness. Something had woken me, some shapeless threat of evil that lurked within the shadows. I tried to call out to Disenk but my voice would not obey.

As the moments passed the presentiment of horror grew, but nothing sprang at me from the invisible corners of my cell and slowly I began to realize that the source of the menace was inside me, that it had crept from me across the courtyard, along the path and into the palace where even now Hentmira’s innocent hands were smeared with death.

Reaching out, I lifted the statue of Wepwawet, and cradling him against my breast I rocked to and fro, whispering incoherent prayers to him, to my father, to Hui my Master, until the first faint hint of dawn began to thin the darkness around me and I was able to slip into a brief, troubled sleep.

The morning brought no lessening of the vise which I had created. I struggled in its relentless grip. Woodenly I allowed Disenk to swathe me in linen and precede me to the bath house, and for the first time the gentle flow of the scented water against my skin was not soothing. It seemed to intensify my inner agitation, and the hands of the young man who had massaged me almost every day since I had entered the harem made me bite back a scream. Other women passed in and out of the bathing quarter in various stages of undress, wafting a dozen different perfumes on the humid air and commenting desultorily to one another in their soft, high voices. Their presence, their feminine, sensuous movements, was stifling, and with an incoherent word I left them, trying to walk casually back to my cell though every nerve in my body demanded that I flee.

Disenk began to paint my face and I clenched my fists as her expert fingers went to work. I was able to contain myself until the brush laden with red ochre swept over my lips, but suddenly I found my mouth full of the metallic taste of blood and with a curse I groped for a piece of linen and scrubbed the offensive colour away. My servant made no remark and I did not explain my action.

I was able to eat sparingly and drink a little water, and by the time I was ready to hold Pentauru I felt calmer, but as I bent over his basket he looked up at me with an unblinking, reproachful stare. My arms went out to lift him but his face puckered and he began to howl. I withdrew hastily, angrily. “I cannot bear his crying, not now!” I blurted to Disenk. “Take him to his wet-nurse for a while. And then go into our old courtyard. Try to find out what is happening, if anything, before I decide to take to my couch and drown myself in the oblivion of the wine jar. Hurry up!”

She was gone for some time, and long before she returned I slowly became aware that the mood of the quarter had changed. The low background susurration of voices that accompanied every activity in the building had ceased. The women who usually arranged themselves comfortably on the grass for a morning of dallying with their children and sharing conversation had fallen silent, and when the new quiet had penetrated my self-absorption and I looked out my door, I saw them ushering their charges away while their servants dismantled the canopies and picked up the cushions and board games and toys. None of them looked happy. An atmosphere of ominous expectancy had pervaded the precinct but I did not dare to go and ask why.

The courtyard emptied but the doors of the cells remained open. From my vantage point I could see the shapes of the inmates hovering just beyond the lintels. A word of doom had spread and I believed that I knew what it was. Shaking in every limb I withdrew to my chair, sat down with exaggerated care, and waited. And as the moments went by a curious composure fell over me. My body ceased to tremble. My mind stopped its frenetic racing and came under my control once more. I could think coherently and coolly. At this, the climax of suspense, I was sane again, and it was Disenk who betrayed distress as she hurried into my presence, panting and agitated.

“Hentmira is very ill,” she said without preamble. “I did not dare to go inside her cell for fear of drawing attention to myself and thus to you, but there is much coming and going of servants and priests. The Lady Hunro saw me and drew me aside briefly.”

“Priests?” I exclaimed. “Who is attending her?”

“The palace physician. He has called in the priests to contend with the demons of sickness. The Lady Hunro thinks that she is dying, Thu.” I could feel nothing at her words. I was encased in an armour of stone.

“What are her symptoms?”

“A rash has broken out all over her body. She vomits continually and her limbs convulse. I could hear her crying most piteously as I stood with others outside the cell.” I did not want to think of that.

“And what of Pharaoh?” I almost whispered. “If the palace physician is attending Hentmira, does this mean that Ramses is already dead?”

“No.” Disenk shook her head. With a gesture I gave her permission to sit and she sank onto the stool beside my couch and laced her fingers together tightly. “The rumour is that the Master has been summoned to treat him. They say he is not as ill as his concubine. That is why he released the palace physician to care for Hentmira.” Our eyes met. “Will he recover, Thu?”

“I do not know.” Panic was struggling to break through the defence that encircled me but I refused it entry. “I will not know for several hours. Did Hui answer the summons?”

“The Lady Hunro could not tell me.”

“And what of the jar of oil?”

“Hentmira did not bring it back to the cell with her. The Lady Hunro said that Hentmira returned from the palace in the early hours of this morning and went straight to bed. But she began to fret and moan an hour later and by dawn the Lady Hunro was sufficiently alarmed to send for Amunnakht. The Keeper summoned the harem physician who sent for permission to consult with the palace physician. At that time Pharaoh was sleeping and so the palace physician came to examine Hentmira. He is still there.”

Silence fell between us, but it was loud and uneasy with our unspoken thoughts. At last I rose.

“Go to Hunro’s cell,” I ordered Disenk. “Offer my services to the palace physician. Everyone knows that I was the Master’s apprentice and have treated many of the harem women. It would be strange if I ignored Hentmira’s plight. While you are there, try to discover Pharaoh’s symptoms, and whether Hui has come or not.” She looked uncomfortable for a moment but left the stool, sketched a bow, and went out.

I poured myself wine, and going to my doorway I leaned against the jamb and sipped the rich red liquid with deliberate attention to its taste. The jar had not come back to the cell with Hentmira. I would have to presume that Paibekamun, having been alerted to the plot, had retrieved it once she had left and I could only hope that he had discarded what remained of the contents and smashed it. I did not like having to trust that he had done this. It gave me a tremor of apprehension. Nor did I like the fact that from what I had heard, Hentmira’s plight was the more desperate. Perhaps the poison was taking longer to travel through the metu of Pharaoh’s larger body. All I could do was wait.

When Disenk returned it was with disturbing news. “The palace physician has gone to attend Pharaoh,” she told me quickly, “but he has left his assistant with Hentmira and he thanks you for your offer. You are to go to the girl at once.” She hesitated and dropped her gaze. “The Master cannot answer the royal summons, Thu. Harshira sent word that he has gone to Abydos to consult with the priests of Osiris and to See for them. He goes there every year.” I was mystified.

“But he did not tell me that he was going away,” I said. “When did he leave?”

“Apparently he has been gone for a week and is due back in Pi-Ramses the day after tomorrow, according to the message Harshira sent to the palace.”

“That is impossible! I was with him three days ago, in his garden! He gave me the poison then! You remember, Disenk?” She did not answer but I saw her lick her lips nervously. “It is a lie,” I went on slowly. “Harshira is lying. I have no doubt that Hui has gone to Abydos but he did not leave a week ago, he left immediately after I saw him that evening. He is protecting himself in case something goes wrong. How did he intend to protect me, Disenk, if something did go wrong? How could he come to my aid if he was in Abydos?”

The answer, of course, was that he would not come to my aid. He might love me, he might desire me, but he spoke the truth when he said that he and I were cast from the same mould. Self-preservation came first. Still, I was hurt and angry. Hui remained the Master. He was more devious than I. I could prove that you were in your house three days ago, I thought mutinously. My sailors took me there. The palace guard waited for me by your entrance. I spoke to your porter and he let me pass.

But neither sailors nor guard saw you, my mind ran on, and all your servants, from lowly porter to imposing Steward, would naturally lie for you. Harshira has done so already. No one could prove that I did not go to your house and steal the poison, knowing you were away. The building is familiar to me, and so are the movements of all your servants. Curse you, Hui! You have outmanoeuvred me once again. Would you really throw me to the jackals if our plot was discovered?

My plot. I shivered, suddenly chilled, as Disenk made no response to my outburst but stood there with a question on her flawless face. It was my plot. I had poured my venom against Pharaoh into Hui’s ears. I had expressed a fervent desire to kill the King, and all Hui had said was “Then why don’t you?” I was the one who had paced in the dimness until the means presented themselves to me. My hand had mixed the arsenic into the oil, carried it to Hentmira, placed it in her own warm fingers, and arsenic was not a rare poison. It was easily obtainable everywhere. I swallowed and closed my eyes. “Get my medicine box,” I ordered Disenk. “I will go to Hentmira now.”

There was still a crowd outside the cell the doomed girl shared with Hunro but the women were keeping a silent vigil, sitting on the ground, some with their backs against the wall. The monotonous rise and fall of chanting came out to meet me as I threaded my way through them. The cell door was open. I gathered up my courage and went in. Hunro glanced up at me as my shadow fell across the threshold. She was perched cross-legged on her couch, outside the circle of concern around the other bed. I went over to her.