The King's Man (37 page)

Now, on this sixteenth day of Mesore, in the quiet, hot dimness of her great reception room, Huy waited for her. He did not expect her to be prompt. The good manners in which both her mother and Mutemwia had instructed her no longer applied to him. She was not foolish enough to be outright rude to him, even in private, but she treated him with a coolness that hurt and exasperated him. The reason had little to do with his absolute authority, he knew. Her anger over that had been short-lived, particularly as neither her father nor her brothers had seemed offended by Huy’s elevation. No, it was one of his Seeings that had begun the rift between them, and Huy was sorry.

At last the double doors were flung open. Guards held the doors wide while others moved swiftly to scan the shadows. Huy rose and Userhet strode forward. Servants carrying tapers began to disperse, and at once lights burst forth from the many tall oil lamps scattered about. Heria, Tiye’s body servant, disappeared in the direction of the square aperture leading, Huy knew, to the Queen’s bedchamber, carrying an ornate cosmetic box and a spare pair of sandals. By the time Tiye had entered the room and seated herself opposite Huy’s chair, the woman had returned with a footstool. Tiye’s scribe Anhirkawi bowed to Huy and then went to the floor beside Tiye, opening his palette. More servants approached carrying a silver tray, a ewer, two silver cups, and a silver dish piled with little cakes.

In spite of his exalted rank, Huy had to wait for the Queen to speak. Heria knelt, lifted the royal legs, and lowered them onto the footstool. A cat appeared from somewhere, stretching and yawning, and sprang lightly onto Tiye’s lap. Automatically her ring-encrusted hands began to stroke its sleek grey spine, but Huy kept his attention fixed on her painted face. The servants, but for Anhirkawi, drew away to stand against the walls. Silence fell. Finally Tiye sighed. “Mer kat.”

“Empress.”

“The Horus-in-the-Nest is now beginning his obligatory term as a priest of Ptah in Mennofer under the guidance of your nephew.”

“Yes.”

“They tell me that the restoring and beautifying work on Ptah’s temple overseen by Amunhotep-Huy is finished, and is completely satisfactory.”

“Yes.”

“Under your guidance a new mausoleum for the sacred Apis bulls has begun construction, the new Palace of the Dazzling Aten continues to rise on the west bank, and His Majesty’s funerary temple will have floors of solid silver rather than the more plentiful gold. You are a busy man. May tells me that you have also put the Assyrians in their place.”

“Majesty, your attention is constantly fixed on governmental offices,” Huy replied with an air of patience he was far from feeling. “You know all this and more. In particular your familiarity with the affairs of foreigners is prodigious. Even as a girl you loved the negotiations into which May entered. Almost every day you, Queen Mutemwia, and I gathered to work with May in the Office of Foreign Correspondence. Is there something pressing that you need to discuss with me?”

“Need.” The creases beginning to etch permanently into her face from nose to mouth deepened. “Need is a dangerous word, mer kat. Or rather, the prospect of its alleviation can be seductively dangerous.” She snapped her fingers and held up the cat. Huy could hear it purring. At once Heria materialized, took it gently, and disappeared. Tiye laid hennaed palms flat on the drape of the gold-shot linen across her thighs. “Because of you the King need not concern himself anymore with the administration of this country. He hunts, he frequents the House of Women far too often, and he has begun to drink too much.”

“I watch him as carefully as you, Empress. I have loved and served him since he was a little boy coming to Hut-herib to stay on my estate. I agree that he is becoming somewhat profligate in his tastes, but he still requires my reports every week and is far from ignorant regarding the state of his realm.” He hesitated, then plunged on. “Placing the cloak of responsibility around my shoulders six years ago was a relief to him. You wished to assume ultimate power instead of me, but you are certainly aware that the country would never accept a female mer kat. Empress, yes. Supreme ruler under the King, no. Amunhotep looks about him, and all is well. Egypt has never been richer or more secure. He has royal daughters and a handsome Hawk-in-the-Nest …” Huy realized his mistake at once and mutely cursed himself, but he was beyond exhaustion and he ached with the desire for his evening dose of poppy.
Need
, he thought grimly.
Even I, Egypt’s supreme Overseer, have needs, dear Tiye
.

“Who is already nine years old and in full health,” she cut in. “I have made sure that he is never alone, and two physicians examine him every day. Only you, His Majesty, and I know that Atum has decreed his death. Or so you said when you Saw for him.” Her mouth turned down. “Every other oracle predicted a long life full of successes. Everyone but you. And what of my daughters, mer kat? Death for every one of them, according to you. Could it be that Anubis is greedy for their souls or that Atum himself has decided to visit a punishment on Egypt’s ruling house for some reason unknown to us? Or perhaps the gift of Seeing has deserted you and you have resorted to lying.” She had leaned forward, the scorn in her voice all too familiar.

“We have walked this ground before, Empress. Why must we do so again? I have never lied to you, and in your heart you know it. You need me to See for you again, don’t you? Why?”

Her hands came up to cover her face, then she sat back. “My physician tells me that I am pregnant again,” she said dully. “I have given my King four daughters but only one son. He has other wives, Huy, some of them barbarian, foreign. I remain his friend, his most intimate companion, and the bedmate of his choice, but if I continue to produce daughters he will be forced to legitimize any one of his other women so that he may have more sons. The Horus Throne must be protected. One Hawk-in-the-Nest is not enough, particularly as you have predicted an early death for my darling Thothmes.” One hennaed palm rose briefly to cover her mouth, a gesture betraying such desperation and defencelessness that Huy was shocked. “Forgive my harsh words,” she begged. “They are spawned from fear and bitterness, two emotions I disdain but which seem to dog me all too often of late. Userhet! Come and pour us wine. It is shedeh, your favourite, Huy. Or would you rather have beer?”

Huy wanted neither. Tiye’s fingers shook as she raised her cup, draining half the red liquid before cradling it on her knee. She was very pale. Userhet had disappeared. “Please See for me now, tonight,” she begged. “I can’t sleep without a word from you.” The earlier hostility had vanished, but it would come back, Huy knew sadly. It always did.

“I will do as you wish,” he said, “but you must dismiss your scribe and send for Paneb, who will take down my words as usual.”

At a sharp order from Tiye, Anhirkawi uncurled from the floor, bowed to both of them, and waited in front of one of the double doors until a soldier let him out. At another command Userhet followed him. There were several minutes of quiet. Tiye had apparently regained most of her poise.
Either that
, Huy thought, eyeing her carefully,
or the pomegranate wine is unusually potent
. She sipped occasionally and gazed at the dimness of the far wall.
You no longer trust my visions
, Huy’s thoughts ran on,
and yet what I said to you is true. In your consciousness I lie in order to preserve my position as mer kat, but deep in the recesses of your ka you know perfectly well that no one else will give you certainty. In spite of your crown, your life as a woman has been hard. You bore your children in rapid succession—Thothmes, Sitamun, Henurtaneb, Isis, and now the baby Nebetah, one female after another—and in spite of your youth and health you have begun to fear the damage each long pregnancy might be causing in that tireless body of yours. To make matters worse, I tell you that your beloved children will soon die, and only Sitamun will temporarily escape the Judgment Hall. If I had spoken fully of Sitamun’s disastrous end, what would you have said? Would you have bowed in humility to the will of Atum? Not the girl who came to my palace apartment in Mennofer all those years ago and demanded that I See for her. Not the young woman who constantly thwarted her mother’s attempts to turn her into an ideal wife for a King. Yet your intelligence and candidness won Amunhotep’s heart and mind, as Atum required. It is a hard thing to let go of one’s offspring, my Tiye, but if you are to maintain control of your husband you must overcome the fear and bitterness of which you spoke. Don’t you know that I am the one person in the whole of Egypt who requires nothing of you at all?

“Sitamun,” she said suddenly. “Her estate yielded well this year? She remains in good health?”

“You have my reports, Empress. As the Overseer of the Princess’s holdings I decide what crops must be sown and I see to the care and disposition of her herds. She prospers. Her tutors tell me that she has little interest in her studies but she enjoys watching her brother take his chariot lessons.”

“Now that Thothmes is in Mennofer, she will have to find other means of entertainment.” Tiye’s tone was waspish. “You are in charge of her education, mer kat. Hire new tutors if necessary, but Sitamun must learn to care for something other than the glamour of the chariot.”

“She’s only eight, Tiye. She cares that she closely resembles you.”

“That is hardly an accomplishment.”

Huy was saved from replying by a flurry of movement at the door. Paneb came forward with his usual unhurried pace, knelt before Tiye and touched his forehead to the tiles, and at her word sat up and crossed his legs. Quietly he opened the drawer in his palette and said the prayer to Thoth as he prepared to work. Huy leaned forward, enfolding Tiye’s hand in both of his. For a moment their eyes met. Huy could not read her expression, but he noted that before her blue-dusted lids closed, her left eye was slightly bloodshot. The hour was late. Clearly she was as tired as he.

“A remarkable woman, isn’t she, mer kat?” Anubis was leaning his folded arms negligently against the back of Tiye’s chair, his jackal snout inches from the top of her bowed head, the golden kohl sweeping around his eyes glinting dully in the flickering lamplight. Thin gold chains slung across his chest winked at Huy, emphasizing the oiled blackness of the god’s skin. Thick golden bracelets crowded each strong wrist. “She’s given our increasingly dissolute young King five children in the space of nine years, all of whom but Sitamun will die before they reach maturity, yet she fights to keep a flame of hope burning inside her. Perhaps this one will be different. Perhaps this time the gods will reward me with a son who will survive to inherit all the wealth and power the Egyptian empire offers. An empire that you created, mer kat. How unfortunate that you are not a pharaoh with an able son! If anyone deserves to rule Egypt, you do, and your progeny after you. But wait! How foolish of me! You already rule Egypt, don’t you, mer kat, even though no son walks the halls of the palace behind you.” He laughed, a hoarse animal bark, lips drawn back from two rows of glistening white teeth.

Huy waited. He was well used to these goads and had stopped reacting to them long ago. Anubis unfolded his arms and, roughly grasping Tiye’s head, lifted it so that Huy could look directly into her closed face. Her breathing remained even. Her eyelids did not even flutter. “She wants you to tell her that a male child inhabits her womb,” Anubis went on harshly, “but the seed she carries is death, Great Seer, more death than you or she can possibly imagine—the eclipse of Ma’at and the destruction of this blessed country. A Queen, but worthy to be a King, is she not? And she knows it. She will indeed give birth to one, and then let Egypt beware!”

To his horror, Huy saw that the god was weeping. Tears were slipping over the lustrous fur of his doglike face and falling onto Tiye’s dark red hair, and where they landed, small uneven circles of grey appeared. Her features were aging also, the folds more pronounced, the corners of the mouth turned down in an expression of cruel petulance. Huy had seen her like this once before. Frantically he searched his mind, until with a savage gesture Anubis let go Tiye’s head and seemed to fling something at him. A familiar vision blossomed: Tiye and a royal man Huy did not recognize standing side by side in a place that resembled the inner court of a temple except that the roof was missing and scorching sunlight flooded the place. Huy could feel its heat, but more than the physical discomfort, it carried with it a sense of desolation so strong that he cried out.

“You chose to ignore this prophecy, didn’t you?” The image vanished. Anubis straightened. “The happy scene preceding it was altogether too convenient, wasn’t it? A way for Egypt’s Great Seer to demonstrate his wisdom, his closeness to Atum, his infallibility. Tiye as a Queen? A commoner like yourself elevated to the pinnacle of the aristocracy, and, moreover, at the will of Atum himself? How deliciously improbable, and what a challenge, to force those around you to agree!”

“It was not like that,” Huy protested—but it was. He vividly remembered the anxiety the vision had caused him and the relief he had felt when the scroll on which it was written had been sealed and stored away. He did not think he had been as arrogant at the time as Anubis had described him, but he had certainly pushed for a betrothal between Tiye and Amunhotep on the strength of only half the message the god had provided.

“Yes, it was like that,” Anubis hissed, lips raised to reveal his pointed teeth. “And now Atum commands you to undo the harm your conceit has caused. All these years, Son of Hapu, all these years as a Seer, so many visions granted to you, and you still have not divined the difference between what is inevitable and what may be changed.”

Only a god can do that
, Huy wanted to object.
Such a subtlety of understanding is far beyond the reach of any Seer, no matter how able. None of the visions accorded me held the slightest hint that the events I saw were not predestined
.

Yet there were moments of doubt, weren’t there?
a small voice inside him answered.
Times when the visions were fulfilled in unexpected ways or their events transferred to someone other than the petitioner. Then I was troubled
.