House of illusions, p.22
House of Illusions, page 22
An hour or so later another soldier darkened the door, this time one of Nesiamun’s retainers come to enquire once more for any new information we might have on Takhuru’s whereabouts. Again Pa-Bast was forced to lie. He was angry, not with the poor man who was obviously as distressed as Nesiamun must be, but with the circumstances that had driven him into a predicament that was untenable for any good Steward. It was only a matter of time before the city was scoured by the regular police for the woman of Aswat who had broken the terms of her exile, and I could only hope that they made their way to this door after Men was back in residence. What if our master decided to stay on in the Fayum to link up with his caravan on its return journey? I shuddered at the thought.
But I need not have worried. An hour after sunset a roar broke the peaceful tenor of the house and the hall exploded in a flurry of noisy activity. “Pa-Bast! Kaha! Kamen where are you? Come out! We are home!” As I made for the stairs, passing Kamen’s door as it began to open, I heard Shesira’s placatory tones.
“Don’t shout at them, Men. They will know we’re here. Tamit, take the cat to the kitchen at once and then come back and wash before we eat. Mutemheb, have the servants take the clothes and cosmetic boxes upstairs. They can leave the rest down here until they’ve gone to their quarters and eaten something. Kamen! My darling! Gods, have you always been so tall?”
I knew that Men would go straight to the office to be brought up to date on his business affairs before he relaxed enough to eat, but in the moment before he called me to the office door, as I reached the bottom step and looked out on the cheerful chaos of their arrival, Kamen pushed past me and took his elder sister by the arm. He whispered something in her ear, warning her, I suppose, that his mother’s room had been occupied. I hoped that he had had the presence of mind to hustle Takhuru into his room for now. She nodded, smiled at him, kissed him, and turned to the servants struggling with a mountain of chests and boxes.
Shesira waited with arms spread wide. “My beautiful son!” she sang. “Come and embrace me! Paiis is working you too hard. Either that or you are spending too many of your nights in the beer house. You look haggard. How is Takhuru?” I saw Kamen hesitate and I knew immediately what was passing through his mind. A comparison, unbidden but intense, between this soft and lovely woman brimming with the confidence of her station, and the stranger with the murky but exotic past who had consumed his emotions and capsized all the verities of his life. He moved towards her, suffered her eager grasp, then extricated himself in order to kiss her painted temple where the greying hair waved back.
“I look tired, Mother, that is all,” he said. “Tell me, have you had a good rest? How are things in the Fayum? What will Father plant there this year?”
“I have no idea,” she replied. “He and the Overseer tramped about and frowned and consulted. I want him to enlarge the house down there. It’s so small you know, far too small for family gatherings when you and Takhuru produce grandchildren for me. The fountain in the garden is in a state of disrepair too, but your father keeps putting off the simple task of hiring a stonemason. Still,” and here she favoured him with another wide smile that showed her even teeth, “it is a blessed place and I like to go there. Mutemheb has begun to fret at the days of idleness and it is always a struggle to persuade Tamit to continue with her lessons while we are away.”
“Tamit will make a gentle wife and little more,” Kamen remarked to her. “She is a good child, content and unambitious. Do not nag her too much, Mother.” Her kohled eyes roved over his face.
“You are troubled, Kamen,” she said in a low voice. “I can tell that all is not well with you. I am tired, hungry and in need of a bath, but come to me later this evening. Kaha! There you are! Tomorrow I want to take a complete inventory of all our household effects with you and Pa-Bast. Tybi is almost upon us and we always have the annual task completed by the Feast of the Coronation of Horus.” She gave a sigh of happiness. “I do love coming home!” I bowed to her, and at that moment Men summoned me sharply over the heads of the servants still bringing in a stream of belongings. I had grabbed up my palette before coming downstairs. Clutching it tightly, I threaded my way through the commotion, and we entered the relative serenity of the office. Kamen followed me.
Men cast the customary critical eye over his holiest of holiest. His eyes crinkled as he bade us sit, Kamen on the chair and I in my correct place cross-legged on the floor beside him. “Well?” he said, lowering himself behind the desk with obvious satisfaction. “Is there anything important to go over before we eat, Kaha? Has word come back from the caravan yet? Kamen, are you in better humour than when I left?” Kamen gestured to me. Quickly I made my report. Men listened carefully, grunting occasionally, sometimes waving a hand dismissively to indicate that I might move on to something else.
“I have brought back the reports of my Overseer in the Fayum with regard to the crops I wish to sow and the projected yields based on the height of this year’s flood,” he said. “You can transcribe them into permanent record tomorrow. Shesira has been plaguing me about that fountain. Find a reputable stonemason, will you, Kaha, and send him south to fix it. Though I would rather tear it out and have a fishpond dug. The flies are bad in the Fayum. You can also write to the Seer and tell him that the herbs he has requested should arrive with the caravan. He will have to be patient. Anything else?” I looked up at Kamen. His arms were folded and he was swallowing as though he had a bone stuck in his throat.
“Yes there is, Father,” he said, “but I think you should at least bathe and eat before you hear it.”
“Serious is it?” Men’s bushy eyebrows rose. “I would rather hear it now and then enjoy my food. Has Paiis dismissed you?”
“No.” Kamen hesitated. Then he unlocked his arms and rose. Going to a shelf, he lifted down the small ornate chest in which Men kept his private documents. He placed it on the desk and leaned over it. “It is about the scroll in here,” he said, “but I do not know where to begin. Takhuru is here, Father.”
“What, here? In this house? Why didn’t you bring her to greet us, Kamen? Will she stay and eat this evening?”
“No, she spent the night in mother’s quarters. Her life is threatened. So is mine. Paiis is hunting us. We …” Men held up a warning hand.
“Sit down,” he ordered. “Kaha, go and bring Takhuru downstairs and then find Pa-Bast and tell him not to serve the meal until I say so. But he can bring a jug of wine in here immediately.”
“Kaha must be present,” Kamen said. “He is a part of it all.” Men stared at him.
“My scribe? My servant? Has this house gone mad while I’ve been away? Kaha, do as you are told.” I came to my feet, bowed, and left the room.
Takhuru was waiting quietly by Kamen’s couch and together we went down. Fortunately we met no one. I could hear the voices of the women and the splash of water come echoing from the bath house. Knocking on the office door and opening it for the girl, I went in search of Pa-bast, and I returned to the office bringing the wine myself.
Kamen was speaking steadily, telling the story I knew so well. He had given the chair to Takhuru who sat rigidly, her face pale. Before I folded onto the floor in my usual place, I poured the wine. Men drank it at once and held out his cup to be refilled. His eyes did not leave Kamen as the young man paced. By the time Kamen fell silent and came to a halt before his father, the jug was empty.
For a long time Men said nothing. His hands were clasped on the desk, his face vacant, but I knew he was thinking quickly and deeply. Then he passed a palm over his bald pate in one slow, familiar gesture and sighed. “If it were not for the fact that I know your true parentage well, I would say that this story is the most ridiculous I have ever heard,” he said heavily. “The General is an able and well-respected man without a slur to his name. Moreover, he is your father’s good friend, Takhuru. The Seer treats the illnesses of the royal family, apart from being Egypt’s greatest visionary. You are talking about two of the country’s most influential men. What proof do you have that the Aswat woman has not fabricated the whole matter out of her madness?” Kamen pointed to me.
“Kaha spent several years in the Seer’s employ. He was a part of the plot to use my mother against Pharaoh. Tell him, Kaha.” At my employer’s nod I did so as succinctly as I could.
“I have kept the knowledge to myself for a long time,” I said finally. “I have not betrayed my former Master until now.” It was a lame attempt to remind Men that as a scribe I could be trusted, but I do not think he heard my last words. He was frowning, his fingernails rattling against his cup.
“It is still not enough to take to the Prince,” he said. “That is what you want me to do, isn’t it? Go to the palace? But even if Ramses would consent to grant me a private audience, I could do nothing more than fill his ears with an unsubstantiated tale.” Kamen leaned over the desk and I glimpsed Takhuru’s agitated face framed briefly in the curve between his body and his arms.
“There is evidence,” he said emphatically. “Under the floor of my mother’s hut in Aswat. The body of the assassin I killed.”
Men sat back. His mouth had thinned to a grim line. “You all realize that if there is some other more plausible explanation put forward, we will be in serious trouble,” he said. “My Lady Takhuru. Have you anything to add?” The girl stirred.
“No,” she whispered. “But I trust Kamen and I have spent some time listening to his mother. Also Paiis and his soldiers came to my house today. The General sent more soldiers here this afternoon. I beg you to help us, Noble Men.” He glanced at her and then suddenly his face creased in a smile. He prodded me with his foot.
“Go and fetch Pa-Bast,” he ordered. “Have you been recording this conversation on your papyrus, Kaha?” I rose and placed my palette on the desk.
“No,” I said.
“Good. Be quick.”
Pa-Bast was in the dining room talking with the cluster of servants. He came at my bidding, an enquiry in his eyes, but there was no time to tell him what had passed. Men got up from behind the desk as we entered. “It is obvious that you also have been seduced by this fantastic story, Pa-Bast,” he said. “It seems that the world I knew has changed while I have been away. Go at once to the house of Nesiamun and ask him to come here. Do not send someone else. Go yourself. Tell him that I have returned and I need to see him urgently on the matter of his daughter’s disappearance. Meanwhile we will eat.” He clapped his hands. The Steward bowed himself out, and by the time we left the office he had gone.
It was customary for the senior staff, Pa-Bast, Setau, the other body servants, and myself, to eat with the family. The meal should have been a joyous occasion, but though Takhuru did her best to talk to Mutemheb and feign an interest in Tamit’s artless chatter, her glance kept straying to the doorway and she ate nothing. Shesira watched her, and Men, though he fed with gusto, watched Kamen. The atmosphere of strain spread until even Tamit fell silent, and in the end the soft footfalls of the servants and the polite clink of the dishes on the trays they bore could be clearly heard.
The sound of voices and brisk steps in the entrance hall came as a relief. At once Takhuru pushed away her table and fled. With an exclamation Shesira made as if to follow her but Men stayed her with a sharp gesture. “Later,” he said. “Kamen, Kaha, come with me.” We went out. Nesiamun stood just within the entrance, his arms around his daughter, and when he saw Kamen his eyes widened.
“What is this, Men?” he said. For answer Men bowed and held open the office door.
“We can talk in here,” he offered. “Pa-Bast, go and eat now.”
Telling my part of the story to Nesiamun was far more daunting than recounting it to my employer. The Overseer of the Faience Factories was no kindly merchant. Of a high lineage and cold intelligence he stopped me frequently to ask a blunt question or challenge me with a contradiction. He could not weaken my account, of course, for I was laying the truth before him, but he gave me no quarter. When he turned at last to Kamen, his attitude was little different, but Kamen was free to answer him as his equal.
To and fro they went until at last Nesiamun said, “Paiis and I have been friends for years. I know him very well but I am under no illusions about him. He’s a military genius, or would be if there were any wars to fight, but he is also a greedy and devious man. Is he treasonous and murderous also? You tell me that he is. I’ve known you as honest, Kamen, so I must conclude that you are either completely correct or utterly deluded by the concubine who bore you. Will you swear by your totem that you killed and buried an assassin at Aswat in order to save your own life and that of Thu?”
“Yes, I will,” Kamen answered promptly. “And will you request an audience with the Prince? You are an important man, Nesiamun. He will not make you wait. The longer we hesitate, the more likely it is that the General will find my mother. If you make your submission on the grounds of your daughter’s possible kidnapping, the Prince will see you at once. The city police are still searching for her, are they not?” Nesiamun nodded. “Then word of her disappearance has surely already reached the Prince’s ears.”
“You have thought of everything, haven’t you?” Nesiamun retorted. “Did you bring her here to force my hand?”
“No, Father,” Takhuru broke in. “Kamen would not do that. If you will not help, I will go to Ramses myself. He is the only one with the authority to protect us.” Nesiamun turned and glared at her in surprise.
“You may not speak to me in that fashion,” he rebuked her. “You are not married yet.” He swung back to Men. “Surely we should approach Paiis and his brother and give them a chance to defend themselves before placing them under the eye of the palace,” he said, but Takhuru grabbed his arm.
“No!” she blurted. “Father, I am afraid. You have not had time to ponder it all or you would understand. Am I not a sensible girl? Is Kamen not a truthful and upright man? You cannot believe that we would be gullible enough to be deceived by a fanciful story. Besides, there is Kaha. No one will hire a scribe with the reputation of a liar. Send to Ramses now, within the hour! Please!” For answer he rose.
“I want you to come home with me, Takhuru,” he said. “I will deliberate, and give my response in the morning. Our guards can certainly protect you, if such protection is necessary.” Quickly and smoothly Kamen interposed himself between them.
“Either Takhuru stays here,” he said evenly, “or I will indeed kidnap her. She is right. You don’t understand how vulnerable we all are. My mother is out there somewhere, sleeping in an alley or in the bottom of a boat or huddled in a doorway with the beggars. Do you think she broke her exile for no reason at all after nearly seventeen years? Will you help us or not?” Their gaze met and locked. Nesiamun did not give way, but his body loosened.
“Your sheer determination is a powerful persuasion,” he said resignedly. “Very well. I will send a request for audience at once with the excuse you suggested. If you are lying or mislead, I will not be responsible for the consequences. Think of your mother tonight, Takhuru, and the pain you are putting her through, for I suppose I can tell her nothing of this conversation yet. Good night, Men.” He did not wait to acknowledge Men’s bow but left the room abruptly. We looked at each other.
“Do not worry,” Takhuru said. Her voice was shaking. “He is angry and puzzled but if he did not believe us, he would have refused us outright and dragged me home by force. He will keep his word.”
I doubt if any of us slept much that night. Kamen lay on a mattress in the passage outside Shesira’s room. Shesira had asked no questions when her husband had told her that Takhuru would be sharing her quarters. Mutemheb had raised her eyebrows and cast her brother an amused look before wandering off to her own domain and Tamit, tired and fretful after a long day on the river, had gone to bed without protest. Men commanded Pa-Bast to send two of the gardeners to the main entrance of the estate with orders to turn away all callers but a messenger from Nesiamun, and he himself settled down beside the entrance to the house. He did not say so, but I could see that he was regretting the fact that he kept no soldiers in his employ. I retired to my own room where I tossed restlessly, my thoughts revolving once more around Thu.
There was no word from Nesiamun in the morning. With the return of the family the house shook off its somnolence. Men was in his office shortly after dawn, and I was with him in my usual place at his feet beside the desk. Even with the door closed and my master’s strong voice dictating, I could hear the wonderfully reassuring sounds of everyday life. Tamit’s high childish treble echoed down the stairs as she poured out a torrent of unintelligible protest that gradually faded under her mother’s calming tones. A little later Mutemheb’s musical cadences interwove with a flurry of chatter and the shushing of sandalled feet in the hall and I presumed that she had lost no time in inviting her friends to catch up on their news. Pa-Bast rebuked a servant. Someone far away in the depths of the house dropped something with a muffled crash and a curse. Life coursed through the rooms once more, a river of sanity and normality, but I knew that its cheerful flow was superficial. Beneath it was blind uncertainty.
It was hard to concentrate on my Master’s words and difficult for him to keep his mind on his business. Once he stopped dictating in the middle of a sentence and looked down on me. “He kept calling that woman his mother,” he said. “Did you notice? No matter how this tragedy is played out, nothing will be the same again. I must tell Shesira something soon. Kamen and Takhuru are upstairs, closeted together like two cornered animals. Why has Nesiamun sent no message?” I laid my pen on the palette.
