It had grown dark outside, and the heat caressed his face, cocooning him, soothing him. He luxuriated in the quiet that follows victory. He thought about the little boat Taheb had supplied, tied up now at the southern quay. Soon Ankhsi would be embarking, and at dawn, before he had even awoken, perhaps, she would be gone. He had sent men ahead to Napata to watch her, but he doubted if she would trouble him again.
He would keep his promises about the funerals. He regretted that there was not time to give Tutankhamun a magnificent one, for such a thing would unquestionably be to his credit. But his right to perform the Opening of the Mouth was inalienable now. Horaha, too, would be buried according to his dignity. Ay feared the dead. He was too close to them not to.
As for little Setepenra, she, too, would go gloriously to Osiris. There was no doubt that Horemheb would be deceived into thinking that she was the queen: he wanted the queen dead, and he would not look for deceit in something which was to his advantage. Soon after dawn, a body servant would discover her. Kenna would be sent to investigate officially, and Merinakhte would pronounce that she had died of grief for her departed husband.
Ay breathed in the night air appreciatively. It was all perfect.
Senseneb was ready. She tried to breathe calmly, but she could not be still. She looked round the house which had been her home for so long for a last time, and brought her father into her heart. She ached, but the thought of what lay ahead did not permit her to dwell on her departure from all that she knew and, foolishly thinking it would never change, had learned to trust.
Hapu would take her to the harbour quarter. When he slung her two bags over his shoulder and opened the door, the night air entered. It was like the life beyond beckoning, and she could not stop her tears.
‘Wait.’
She needed an excuse to delay a moment longer. Once she was with Huy, once she was on her way, it would be all right. But it was this moment between home and travel that was hard to bridge. She looked round the room.
She had no intention of taking Merinakhte’s gift with her, and had told Hapu to return it to him as soon as she was safely gone; but now she turned to the blue jar on the shelf. Mermaids’ milk. Its scent had been beautiful. Perhaps she should put a little on. She wanted to be as attractive as possible for Huy. It would be their last night together for a time whose length she could not guess at. Glancing at Hapu, she crossed the room and picked up the jar. She uncapped it and the delicious odour once again met her nostrils. She placed it on the table and took off her rings.
‘There isn’t much time,’ said Hapu. Tears were in his eyes too.
‘I’ll hurry.’ She would just smooth a little of the cream on her cheeks and neck, she thought, as she put her rings down.
Suddenly one of the two cats that formed part of Horaha’s little zoo, a large tabby with a white bib, darted in from outside. He leapt on to the table, and, head and tail held high, walked towards Senseneb, purring. He was distracted by the perfume jar, sniffing at it daintily with his sensitive nose. Then, with a decided movement, he knocked it over. The thick white liquid inside spilled onto the table. The cat leapt to the floor and vanished.
Senseneb had righted the jar before she noticed that the spilt ointment was burning into the wood. She watched it in horror. Her heart would not accept what she saw. She was brought back by Hapu’s voice, speaking evenly.
‘I’ll kill him,’ he said. ‘Now, you must come.’
Huy thought he must have slept deeply, but not for more than an hour. He was not sure that she had at all. At first, after her arrival, she had been bright, even scintillating, and he thought it was excitement. She had only been grave in saying farewell to Hapu, who would not stay but had taken his leave immediately. Then she had removed the stitches from Huy’s face. There had been no pain.
Huy, who lived alone without servants, had prepared a meal of duck and ful himself, but they had eaten and drunk frugally. He looked at Senseneb and wondered what she was keeping back from him.
She kept very still, knees drawn up to her chin, looking inwards. Huy had not disturbed her. He wanted to embrace her, comfort her, and add the strength of his heart to hers, but he knew that she did not want to be touched yet. She would tell him when she was ready. Although it was only the third hour of night, the dawn seemed very close, and the threat of it drove quietness of spirit from them both.
‘It is worse for the queen,’ said Huy, finally. ‘She is all alone.’
Senseneb looked at him. Should she tell him what had happened? She had ordered Hapu not to. There was no point in burdening him with it; he had too much to think about and soon she would be safe. She considered Hapu’s safety more. Once Merinakhte knew he had been thwarted in his vengeance, where his madness would take him? Or did he really believe that once she was deformed she would accept him?
‘I know,’ she said finally, softening, and as they embraced she felt such sweet relief that she wondered at having resisted so long. They did not make love, but this was as great a pleasure as lovemaking, to be wrapped in the happiness of each other’s warmth. He buried his nose and lips in her dark hair, felt the fine contour of her head with them, and kissed her gently. They stayed like that for a long time, while outside all sound ceased. Then he must have slept. Later, the dark panel framed by the window began to grow light, so slowly at first that Huy thought it was a trick of his eyes; but a distant bird on the riverbank cried.
‘Come,’ said Huy.
Dawn is a sad time for parting, he thought, as he picked up Senseneb’s bags and followed her into the silent street. He wondered if there was ever a good time; but the worst was dawn.
They set out on foot and in silence for the southern quay. The only sound was their sandals on the earth. Each felt they should have a multitude of things to say; but neither had a word. It was a relief when they saw the yellow lantern on the boat ahead. A shadow detached itself from the harbour wall and came to meet them, resolving itself into a man.
‘We must leave at once,’ said the captain. ‘The queen and her body servants are aboard.’ He turned to Huy. ‘Lady Taheb is accompanying us.’
‘Does she know I am here?’
‘No.’
‘I will see her when the time does not press.’
The captain nodded.
Huy took Senseneb’s hand.
She looked at him. ‘You think you have all the time in the world, and suddenly it is gone. Goodbye.’
‘Goodbye. Do not linger. I will come to you soon.’
She was crying silently. ‘There is so much danger. Po not die.’
‘No.’
‘I long for you.’
‘I long for you.’
Huy watched her follow the captain up the gangplank to the dark boat which rocked in the red flood water of the River. She did not look back. He watched them cast off, and watched as the wind caught the hoisted sail and drew the sleek ship out into the stream. The River was broad like a sea. He stood there until the boat was just a speck on it.
‘A touching sight,’ said a voice dry as sand and as lonely as the desert behind him. Huy turned to see Merinakhte’s gaunt figure leaning against the corner of a shed. It was almost light now, but there were no other ships drawn up at the southern quay, and they were alone. Merinakhte’s shadow reached from where he stood to the edge of the water.
‘She didn’t use the ointment I sent her to pretty herself up for you.’ The voice carried a detached regret.
‘I don’t understand you,’ said Huy. The doctor was dressed in rather battered finery, and the ochre and kohl on his face had rubbed and run. He looked tired but his eyes were hard. ‘Then perhaps you will understand this!’
The jolt into screaming rage caught Huy off guard, but even for a man of his speed and length of stride, Merinakhte had too great a distance to cover to make his first attack pay, and the bronze surgical scalpels he held in each hand stabbed air. He wheeled round instantly, gulping air, but there was fear in his face now, along with the fury. Unless he killed Huy cleanly and quickly, he had thrown his entire career away by this one action. That was as far as his thoughts ran. He had bidden sanity farewell long ago, and sacrificed ambition to vengeance. Blood swam before his eyes as they focused on his prey. He raised his stabbing arms again, his hands like claws around the hafts of the knives. Huy had turned too, using the two or three seconds before Merinakhte resumed his attack to look desperately around him for a weapon. The quay was bare. There was not even a wooden spar on the ground. If he used his own knife, he would have to close with the doctor, and he did not relish the idea. But he reached behind him and drew it from its sheath at the back of his belt.