‘I see.’
‘Is that how the others were killed?’
‘Yes.’
‘What happens now?’
‘Go home. Comfort your parents. Find out all you can about what Ankhu intends to do. Our quarry needs very careful stalking.’
Nebamun left. Huy watched him cross the little square in front of his house and disappear around the corner on the way back to the palace compound. He thought of the forsaken wedding preparations, of the thoughts running through the head of the betrothed man, whose name he did not even know, of the decorations which were now mockeries. We establish order and think we are in control; then Nu throws over the table and breaks what we have taken a lifetime to construct. Perhaps one day he will even manage to destroy the pyramids we have built in defiance of his chaos. But however solidly we build, our lives remain huts of straw and mud, at the mercy of the River and the Sun, thought Huy.
* * *
Dressed in the quiet livery of Ipuky’s staff again, make-up covering the worst of the bruises on his face, his arm tied in a linen sling, Huy spent the next two days sending himself on imaginary errands in the palace compound, which took him past Reni’s house often enough to be able to assess the state of repair and height of its walls, the number of gates it had, and which streets they led into. The walls were in good condition, and smoothly plastered so that it would be hard to climb them, and if anyone had tried to, scuff marks would surely have shown where. There were two gates apart from the main entrance: a small one which led directly into the garden from an alley along the east side of the house, and a double gate for waggons and chariots opening on to a broad square which faced the north wall.
In the course of those two days no member of the family left the house. Ankhu, with well-muscled arms oiled to show them off to their best effect but with a stomach that was already turning soft, had accompanied the narrow cart pulled by a white ox which took Nephthys’s body, wrapped in a white linen sheet, to the embalmer, but that was all. Huy had followed him. After he had left the embalmer, Ankhu went to the East Barracks and spent the afternoon drinking with cronies there, returning as the seqtet boat of the sun sailed towards the Horizon of Manu, stopping only to buy mint and coriander from a stall, and several cupfuls from a waterseller.
There was no sign of either Reni or his wife, or of the eldest daughter. Nebamun made no attempt to contact Huy. There was a steady stream of visitors to the house, of whom Ipuky was one.
‘It is curious,’ Huy’s employer told him later. ‘Reni has aged. He has shrunk, as if he were already preparing to return to Geb. I spoke to him, but he barely noticed me. The brothers are bent on vengeance, especially the older one, but he does not know what to do. He asked me if his men could work with mine, but they are a wild lot, cadets, and I do not think they will do more than relieve their feelings by scratching at the surface of this thing. They will drink, swear oaths, and plan great deeds.
If they find Surere they will tear him limb from limb.’ Ipuky paused. ‘Nebamun is quieter. Do you know him at all?’
‘No. I met him once.’
‘He is intelligent, but I cannot fathom him. The mother and the daughter have grown in stature. They have become the strength of the family. The girl especially, though there is a bitter satisfaction on the mother’s face – as if a prophecy she expected were finally being fulfilled. But I fear for them. You must find Paheri and stop him.’
‘Are you sure you know nothing more? I can only track the beast by watching the place where he last killed.’
Ipuky looked hard at Huy. ‘I know you do not trust me completely, and why should you, when all I can offer you is a conviction that my son is here? But my spirit senses his presence.’ He slapped his hands on his thighs in frustration. ‘If I were you, I would have little faith in hunches either.’ The panic which had seized other parents in the palace compound had revived with new strength. Horemheb issued a proclamation that Kenamun’s investigations would soon bear fruit, that no more than ordinary security precautions need be observed. The season was progressing, and every day that passed was hotter. Soon it would be akhet, the time of Inundation, though the river was not expected to rise as much as was hoped. If it dropped even a fraction below the minimum limit, a year of famine would follow. The people were restless. Things were not going well. Where were the gods, to aid them in their distress? Or was this the beginning of a Judgement? ‘What is Kenamun doing?’ Huy asked.
‘Horemheb is making him sweat. He wants to deploy his full force here. There will soon be two men on every street here, and consequently none in the harbour quarter, where crime will double. There is talk of using soldiers too. But there are others who say that Surere has called forth demons, and that men will be no use against them. Kenamun himself looks calm, but there is always sweat on his lip.’
‘If Surere is still in the city, they will find him.’
‘Yes.’ But Ipuky looked thoughtful.
* * *
On the third day, Nebamun and Ankhu left the house at dawn together. Huy noticed immediately that they were unarmed. The sunlight filtered into the ochre canyons of the streets through a clinging mist. A pair of egrets, unsettled by the noise of the garden gate entrance clicking shut, left their perches high on the wall of Reni’s house and wheeled round towards the river. Huy, who had taken up residence in a small upper-room at Ipuky’s house, where the younger children came to stare at him curiously, had risen at the ninth hour every night – well before the sun came up – and stationed himself in a doorway on the square to the north of Reni’s house, from where he could look down the alley and cover the large rear gateway. The main gate was always attended by a gatekeeper, and it would be impossible to open the big northern gates unaided, so Huy guessed that anyone wanting to enter or leave the house unnoticed would use the garden entrance; but the alley was too straight and narrow to admit any hiding place. Kenamun’s additional Medjays were due to be on the streets from that night, and the authorities had made no secret of the fact, in order to calm the people. Huy had argued that if there was going to be any covert movement from the house it would be now.
Early as it was, the square was not empty. Already servants had been down to the harbour and were returning with fish – their own food, for the lords who lived here would never stoop to eat cursed meat. The servants would breakfast on ful, olives and white cheese before preparing more sumptuous meals for their masters – dates, pomegranates, honey cakes, and, in the palace itself, rare depeh fruit, still imported from the lost northern empire. Walking through the mist, the sun casting thin shadows behind them, moving in silence, they were like the population of a dream.
The brothers walked south along the alley, purposefully and without conversing, turning west at its far end, the dispersing mist swirling behind them. Huy could see that Ankhu carried a packet wrapped in vine leaves. The scribe followed at a good distance. He was hampered by his damaged arm and he knew that if Nebamun saw him, he would recognise his stocky figure instantly.
As they walked through the streets and squares of the palace compound, now heading north again, the number of people about increased, and it became easier to maintain the pursuit. At the same time, Huy had to follow more closely, to avoid losing them in the crowd. He was also considering what he might do if they split up, though his heart had turned over the possibility that Nebamun had contrived to accompany his brother. A column of soldiers marching towards the palace cut Huy off for a long minute as they blocked a square, but by now Huy was sure that Reni’s sons were on the way towards the city itself, and, continuing in that direction, he soon picked them up again.