The King's Man (40 page)

From then on, a hyena began to shadow him, sometimes an earthly animal loping behind him as he was carried through the choked streets of the city, following him from audience hall to administrative offices to the homes of the nobles, or squatting out of reach of the many lamps in Huy’s reception hall at his feasts, or, worst of all, watching him from a dim corner of his bedchamber once Kenofer had seen him onto his couch and closed the door. Since Hori had remarked on the beast in the vicinity of the King’s funerary temple, no one seemed able to see the thing stalking Huy. Only in the privacy of his own room did the ugly creature stare at him with the unblinking yellow eyes of Imhotep’s tame hyena in the Beautiful West. After a sighting among the opium poppies one morning and a command to Perti to drive it away with a hail of stones, he had stopped acknowledging its presence. Perti and his soldiers had searched the field for its misshapen grey body in vain, and on that day Huy realized, with a mixture of horror and resignation, that he alone was being haunted. Occasionally Amunmose reported to him that the house servants had swept up several hard white balls of hyena feces. Slabs of poisoned meat had been set out, none of which were ever disturbed.

At first Huy attempted to speak to the animal in spite of his fear that it would respond by rubbing itself against him again, but it never responded, merely continuing to observe him dispassionately. Nothing drove it away—not pleas to Khenti-kheti or entreaties to Atum or any of the desperate attempts to engage Anubis’s sympathy during Huy’s increasingly infrequent Seeings. Anubis had expressed a fleeting pity for Huy only once. Huy had not expected any help from the jackal god himself, but he had become frantic enough to beg an end, if not a suspension, to the persecution being inflicted on him. Anubis ignored his frantic request. In the end, by having Kenofer double his evening dose of opium, he was able to fall asleep under the gaze of those expressionless eyes, but sometimes they followed him into his dreams and he would wake, sweating and sickened, to the same calm regard.

The Sopdet star appeared in the sky. The Inundation began amid the usual universal rejoicing. Huy, haggard and feeling demon-ridden, fought to carry out his many responsibilities with a sanity he was far from feeling. Apart from his household staff, Queen Mutemwia was the first to notice his condition. With her lifelong interest in the affairs of state she often attended the morning audience always conducted by Huy, and one hot morning in Paophi she accosted him.

“You are very sick, mer kat,” she said without preamble. “How are you afflicted?” Her glance went to the sa amulet on his chest and the shield provided by the two rings the Rekhet had made for him many years ago, the gold and red jasper Soul Protector with the hawk’s body and the head of a man, designed to prevent any separation of soul from body until the proper time, and the golden Frog of Resurrection with its blue lapis eyes. “Have you become careless in wearing your talismans?”

“No, Majesty, of course not.” Huy forced himself to meet those dark, intelligent eyes in their nest of wrinkles. “I believe that I’m temporarily beset by an evil neither Atum nor Anubis will remove. Therefore I must conclude that it is for my own good.” The temptation to tell her everything was very strong, but Mutemwia was no fool; sooner or later she was bound to arrive at a deduction that would be far too close to the truth for Huy’s liking.

Her gaze sharpened. “What form does this evil take? Why do you feel that it plagues you to your ultimate benefit? Does it weaken your ability to rule Egypt competently, dear mer kat?” Her eyes had softened with concern.

Huy shook his head. “No. I understand it, Majesty. It often invades my sleep. I become tired, but it does not enter my soul. Exorcism is not the answer. Only the passage of time will bring me relief.”
If I can solve this appalling dilemma. If I can find a way to give the god what he demands
.

Mutemwia sighed. “If you didn’t consume large amounts of poppy, I would recommend kesso root and ginger to help you to remain calm,” she offered. “As it is, those remedies will have no effect on a body saturated with opium. Are you sure you don’t wish to confide in me, my old friend?”

Huy shook his head. “You would be the first to know what ails me if I could speak of it,” he replied. “Pray for me, Majesty, and do not worry. I shall find a resolution in time.”

Bowing, he left her, walking to his customary appointment at the Office of Foreign Correspondence trailed by his entourage. Every knee was bent at his passing. Every nose touched the ground.
Resolution
, he thought resignedly as he went.
What resolution, great Atum? How am I to redeem myself?
He could find no answer.

12

ON THE FIFTEENTH DAY OF PHAMENOTH,
the third month in the season of Peret, Tiye gave birth to a healthy son. When her labour began, all work in the palace ground to a halt. The nobles and officials gathered outside her thick double doors, their servants laden with food and drink, cosmetics, stools, and board games to keep their masters fed and occupied. The corridors leading to the women’s apartments became choked and noisy as the hours passed. Huy, after inquiring of Chief Steward Userhet regarding the Empress’s progress and leaving one of his servants to keep him abreast of the news, intended to escape to the tiny apartment where he sometimes stayed if the pressure of his work became too urgent. He did not get far. A royal herald accosted him as he, Paneb, Kenofer, and Perti were hurrying away from the passage leading to the royal quarters.

“His Majesty asks that you join him in his private suite,” the man said, bowing. “He wishes you to be close by when the birth of his son is announced.”

For answer, Huy nodded and turned reluctantly towards Amunhotep’s rooms. They were almost adjacent to Tiye’s, and a few steps brought him to the wide double doors now standing open. Through them came a thin haze of incense smoke and the subdued murmur of several voices. The guards saluted Huy, and one of the King’s under stewards rose from his stool and reverenced him, hands on his linen-covered knees and back bent. Gesturing to Perti to remain outside, Huy entered the spacious area beyond. As soon as he was noticed, a silence fell. Huy briefly scanned the lowered heads. Ptahhotep, High Priest of Amun, Steward of Amun, Overseer of the Priests of Upper and Lower Egypt, was arrayed in full regalia, the leopard skin draped over one shoulder and secured to his waist by the thin links of a golden chain. Not only Fanbearer on the King’s Left Hand, he was soon to be appointed Mayor of Weset. Huy had amassed a comprehensive secret file on Ptahhotep. He liked the man, but that did not prevent him from listening carefully to the reports of his spies. Ptahhotep held a long censer and beside him an acolyte carried the box containing the pellets of frankincense.

Chief Treasurer Sobekhmose, son of the previous Treasurer Nakht-sobek, stood by the open doors to the King’s garden, an intermittent breeze stirring his immaculate linen, and with a spurt of pleasure Huy recognized his favourite nephew, Ramose, limned in the glare of sunlight beyond.
Ramose, Treasury scribe and steward in the Mansion of the Aten at Iunu
, Huy thought briefly, warmly.
Twenty-five years old, and your half-brother thirty-four. You miss Heby as much as I do, don’t you? Does Amunhotep-Huy also honour his father’s memory?
As if the unspoken words had conjured up the man, Huy’s travelling gaze met the unmistakable shape of his older nephew’s shaved skull, and paused. Even in an attitude of veneration, Amunhotep-Huy’s posture managed to convey the antipathy he had always felt towards his uncle. For the thousandth time Huy wondered why Mutemwia had insisted on making Amunhotep-Huy a Vizier, although it was true that Amunhotep-Huy was punctilious, even overly so, when conducting the land transactions that were a part of his responsibilities.
Was it perhaps a matter of keeping a volatile personality close by while making sure to include him in the favours she bestowed on all the members of my family? Why make an enemy when you can create a loyal subject?

With a terse word, Huy released the company from their obeisance and moved farther into the crowd. Quiet conversations began again. Stepping into the respectful space surrounding the King and his mother, Huy bowed deeply. The Queen’s perfume, the combination of lotus, narcissus, and henna essences in satke oil she had worn through all the years he had known her, made him feel immediately comfortable, and he smiled at her while waiting for her to speak first, as was the custom. Mutemwia was now in her middle forties, but unlike the majority of women of her age, her body remained naturally slim and her gestures as artlessly graceful as ever. The henna dye with which she disguised her increasingly grey hair gave it a reddish-orange tinge, and her cosmetician now widened the sweep of kohl around her dark eyes to hide the spreading wrinkles, but she continued to choose the simple jewellery and unadorned linen sheaths she preferred. In spite of the encroachment of the years, Huy noted as both she and the King bade him stand upright, her intellect was as sharp as ever. Generally, she and the Empress both agreed with Huy’s decisions regarding foreign and domestic policy. Both took a keen interest in all aspects of the country’s affairs. But when they disagreed, their arguments could be loud and heated, although they knew perfectly well that ultimate authority rested with Huy.

Mutemwia returned Huy’s smile. “I have such faith in your prediction for this birth that I’ve sent Chief Herald Senu north to Prince Thothmes in Mennofer with the news that he will soon have a brother. Indeed, I suppose by the time he arrives, the baby will already be sleeping in his crib.” She snapped her fingers. “Ameni, bring the Seer a goblet of wine. We shall drink to the wisdom of Ma’at!”

Huy took the cup Mutemwia’s chief steward offered and raised it, drinking solemnly and catching the King’s eye over its rim.

Amunhotep grinned. “I thank all the gods for this son. If Tiye gave birth to yet another girl, we’d all be hiding from her rage. I’m waiting for word from Nubti that my new son has produced his first cry. Dear Uncle Huy, what reward can I possibly give to the man who already has everything?”

Briefly his arm went around Huy’s shoulders before he turned to give his attention to the Empress’s father, and he and Yuya began to discuss the latest addition to the royal stables. Huy lost interest. Mutemwia was softly joining Ptahhotep’s chant as a fresh billow of incense smoke hazed the room. Huy was about to sidle towards the open doors and escape when he felt a hand on his arm. His nephew Ramose, with Anen beside him, bowed.

“I haven’t seen you since my father’s funeral, Uncle,” Ramose began. “I’ve been busy in the Aten’s temple at Iunu. I wish the Queen would relieve me of that stewardship and move me closer to you and Anen at Ipu. The reports I send her have been boring and repetitive so far. But I thoroughly enjoy your letters.”

Huy reverenced Tiye’s younger brother, thinking as he did so how vital and alive these two friends were. Anen had inherited his father’s blue eyes and the reddish sheen to his hair along with the good looks the Empress lacked. He was also free of her quick temper.

“I trust you are well and your enterprises are prospering, mer kat,” Anen said politely, and Huy was free to answer.

“All is as it should be, Prince, and I’m sure that the district of Ipu flourishes under your hand. I saw your brother in the corridor outside the women’s quarters. He seemed preoccupied.”

“Ay’s wife is pregnant and unwell,” Anen told him. “She would request a Seeing from you, but she fears the result. Ay is worried.”

“My amiable half-brother will also become a father again next year,” Ramose put in dryly. “Naming his existing son Ay against the advice of the priests was a crude attempt to curry favour with your family, Anen. Honestly, Uncle, I’ve done my best to remain close to him. Father would have wanted it. But to my shame, I make most of my visits to his estate while he’s away on the tours of the Vizierate. I like Henut-nofret and I admire her loyalty to him.”

“You’re talking about me, Ramose.” Huy’s elder nephew had come up behind him, obliging Huy to step aside. Amunhotep-Huy carried with him a strong cloud of jasmine perfume. He bowed deeply to Anen. Huy’s head began to pound at once as he unwillingly inhaled an aroma he hated.

“We were speaking of your good fortune in anticipating the birth of another child,” Anen half lied. “You must be very pleased, Vizier.”

“I am, Prince,” Amunhotep-Huy agreed curtly, shooting a suspicious glance at his brother’s face. “My son Ay is already able to crawl, and shows a growing intelligence. His grandfather Nebenkempt, Commander of His Majesty’s Naval Troops, comes often to my house to play with him.”

Huy sighed inwardly. Nebenkempt was one of his close friends, and both men knew that it was only the Naval Commander’s rank and the King’s favour that prevented Amunhotep-Huy from treating his wife as roughly as he treated his servants.

“I hear that the King was so delighted with your work on the temple of Ptah at Mennofer, he allowed you to erect a statue of yourself next to his, within the sacred precincts,” Ramose said warmly and also, Huy reflected, with a moment of guilt.