She stared at me in amazement.
‘My father…’
‘Go on.’
‘My father was a scribe in the offices of the former King. In Akhetaten. When I was young, he moved us all to the new city. He said the new regime offered him the chance of preferment, and stability. And so it seemed. We lived well. We had the nice things he had dreamed of giving us. We had some land. But when everything collapsed, we had to move back to Thebes with nothing. He was stripped of his work, and his land, and everything he owned. And it broke him. And then one night, there was a knock on the door. And when he opened it, soldiers were waiting for him. They put him in fetters. They wouldn’t even let us kiss him goodbye. And they took him away. And we never saw him again.’
She couldn’t continue for a moment, but I saw it was rage not grief that gripped her.
‘My mother still sets a plate of food for him every night. She says the day she stops doing that is the day she knows he is dead. The men of this King did this to us. And you wonder why I hate?’
It was not a new story. Many men of the old regime had suffered: enforced labour and dispossession and, in some cases, disappearance. Husbands, fathers and sons were arrested and removed in fetters, in silence, and never seen again. I have also heard stories of body parts washing up further to the north along the Great River. Of eyeless, rotten corpses fished up in the nets, missing fingernails, and fingers, and teeth, and tongues.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’
At least now she looked reasonably presentable. I led her out into the courtyard. The great risk was that we would be noticed, but taking advantage of the general chaos, we hurried through the crowds, under the entrance with its carved wolf, and then out into the busy street.
‘I understand how you feel. Injustice is a terrible thing. But think carefully. Your life is worth more than a gesture. Life is short enough. Your mother has lost enough already. Go home to her now, and stay there,’ I whispered. I insisted she give me her name and address, in case I needed them for the future. And then, as if she were a wild animal, I let her go. She disappeared into the city without once looking back.
5
It was late when I returned to the house. Thoth and I passed through the gate. But instead of loping to his bed in the yard he stood poised, his tail up, listening intently. The house seemed unusually quiet. Perhaps Tanefert and the children had not yet returned from Nakht’s house. But the oil lamp was lit within the front room, where we never sit.
I moved across to the kitchen door, soundlessly pushed it open, and stepped across the threshold. Another lamp was lit in the wall niche, but there was no sign of the children. I moved towards the door into the front room. Tanefert was sitting on a stool by the wall paintings that still, after all these years, we have not found the funds to complete. She had not yet seen me. She looked tense. I moved further and saw another shadow lying across the floor. Then the shadow’s arm moved, and I slipped quickly into the room and grasped the man’s arm behind his back.
A goblet clattered to the floor. Wine spread in a small puddle. I was staring into the condescending face of an elite gentleman, of late middle age, expensively dressed, surprised but still composed. Tanefert stood up, as if to attention. It seemed my nerves had betrayed me.
‘Good evening,’ said the man, in a smoothly ironic tone.
I let him go. He readjusted his impressive gold Collar of Praise-an exceptionally fine one-and then noticed he had spilt wine on his robe. He looked down at the red stain with disappointment. It was probably the worst thing that had happened to him in years.
‘This gentleman has been waiting to see you…for quite a long time.’ My wife looked less than pleased with me. I imagined there would not have been much conversation. She disappeared into the kitchen to fetch a cloth and water, giving me the eye as she passed.
‘I should apologize for appearing in this way. Unannounced. Unexpected…’ he said, in his grand, hushed voice.
‘And unexplained…’ I added.
He looked around the room. He was not impressed by what he saw. Eventually his gaze returned to me.
‘How shall we continue this discussion? I find myself in a quandary. A dilemma…’
‘A predicament.’
‘If you like. A predicament. And the predicament is this: I cannot tell you why I am here. I can only ask whether you will come with me to meet someone.’
‘And you cannot tell me who.’
‘You see my predicament.’
‘It’s a mystery.’
‘But then one hears you are something of an expert at mysteries. A “Seeker of Mysteries.” I never thought to meet such a person, and yet here I am.’
And he graced me with his most withering stare.
‘At least you could tell me your name and titles,’ I said.
‘I am Khay. Chief Scribe, Keeper of the Royal Household. Well, that is all I can tell you at this moment.’
What was a very high official, at the heart of the palace hierarchy, doing in my front room, on this strange day of omens and blood? I was annoyed with myself for being so intrigued. I poured us each a fresh goblet of wine. He glanced at his, clearly unimpressed by its quality; but nevertheless he drank it as if it were water.
‘You are asking me to come now?’
He nodded, almost casually, but I saw he needed me badly.
‘It is late. Why should I leave my family with no certain knowledge of where I am going, or when I will be back?’
‘I can guarantee your safety, of course. Well, I can guarantee my commitment to your safety, which I suppose is not quite the same thing. And I can certainly guarantee you will return home before dawn, if you wish.’
‘And if I refuse?’
‘Oh…It would be rather difficult…’ he trailed off.
Then he reached into his robes and from a leather pouch brought out an object.
‘I was asked by my client to show you this.’
It was a toy. A wooden man and a big dog with wide red eyes, worked by strings and pulleys. There was a peg. I knew if you turned the peg the man’s arms went up to defend him as the wooden dog rose to attack him. I knew this because I had seen it before, many years ago, in the nursery of the royal family. When the young Queen, who today had been spattered in blood, was a child.
I explained everything to Tanefert in the kitchen. The girls crept out of their room now, and gathered in the safe circle of the lamplight.
‘Who is that man?’ demanded Thuyu.
‘He’s a high official.’
‘A high official of what?’ whispered Sekhmet, thrilled by the arrival of a real, live elite bureaucrat in our home.
Tanefert shushed all their questions, and persuaded them to return to their bedrooms. Nedjmet, the Sweet One, stood there, hardly even looking at me. I picked her up, kissed her, and promised I would return in time for breakfast.
‘Where are you going? It’s dark.’
‘Out to see someone.’
‘Is it work?’
‘Yes. It’s work.’
She nodded gravely, and I passed her to Tanefert, who gave me one of her looks.
‘I’ll leave Thoth on guard.’
She kissed me carefully, and retired to our chamber.
We arrived at the docks, at the place where the ferries cross. By day it is crowded with boats and ships of all sizes, from little reed boats and passenger ferries through to the large commercial ships of the kingdom, and the transporters of stone. The economy that keeps the city thriving and affluent, and supplied with luxuries, construction materials and food, is based here; deals are sealed or betrayed, and goods imported or smuggled. But by night it is quiet. No trade happens in the night hours because it is so dangerous to sail the Great River after dark; crocodiles cruise invisibly, disguising their predatory manoeuvres in the currents and swirls of the black water.