Out of the Black Land

Chapter Three

Mutnodjme

The problem with my mother Tey and myself was that we were too much alike.

She was sharp, intelligent, determined and curious, and so was I, though she called me insolent, too clever for my own good, stubborn and a spy. All her own attributes, and she didn’t like them in me.

Therefore she was all for sending me away, to my father Ay’s estates near Memphis. I think she was worried about what I might say, given the extremely delicate nature of my sister’s marriage. But Nefertiti would not allow this. Tey’s opposition faded away. Nefertiti always got what she wanted. She would persist and persist, never forgetting and never losing her temper, and eventually it became easier to allow her whatever she wanted; rather than to continue, churlishly, to oppose her will. My sister was gentle, but she was neither stupid or anyone’s dupe.

And she was determined to love her husband.

Marriages being dynastic or family matters, it was rare for the parties to have known each other before the woman came to live in her new husband’s house. Women had lovers, of course, and men had favourites, and we had no bans on youth enjoying itself.

After marriage, naturally, women and men were expected to be devoted to each other because the family was the unit established by the Gods for the comfort and protection of children and the feeding and clothing of the members. Husbands cared for wives, wives for husbands. Did not Hathor the Goddess of Beauty and Music go every year to Edfu to spend two weeks with her husband Horus in feasting and lovemaking? The world was designed for pleasure, and pleasure extended beyond the death of the body. In the Field of Reeds, the dead feasted every day on the offerings which were made in their tombs.

Despite my mother’s misgivings, therefore, I went with my sister Nefertiti when she went to lie for the first time with her husband the Divine Akhnamen.

She dismissed the other women at the door, thinking that her husband might be shy, and took only me with her, to undress her before she lay down in Pharaoh’s bed. We entered his apartments to the music of sistra and women’s voices, and the most beautiful woman sat down on a saddle-strung chair next to the bed on which the strange young man was lying.

He had retired early from the marriage feast, saying that he felt fevered, and there was an unhealthy slick of sweat on his face and his torso.

By rights, Nefertiti should have been in her own apartments, which were certainly grand enough, and he should have come to her. But it was her nature to understand fear, and she knew that he was afraid.

‘Is it you?’ he asked, reaching out a languid hand, which she took in both of her own.

‘It is I,’ she said gently. ‘Your wife.’

He twitched a little at that.

‘Is it your will that I should stay with you tonight?’ she asked, stroking the hand, which was long-fingered and elegant, unlike the rest of him.

‘It is,’ he whispered.

At her signal, I loosed the heavy pectoral and lifted it off my sister’s shoulders. I laid away all her jewellery, the rings and bracelets and the heavy gem-encrusted girdle. I loosed her sandals so that she could step out of them and laved her face and hands with cool water in which jasmine blossoms had been steeped. On impulse, I lifted King Akhnamen’s soft hands and sluiced and dried them, and then laid the wet cloth across his brow. His strange almond-shaped eyes considered me with some interest.

‘Who are you, dark lady?’ he asked, and I stifled a laugh.

‘I am Mutnodjme, lord, sister of your wife,’ I replied. He twitched again. That word definitely worried him. ‘Sister of Nefertiti, Lord. We are here to serve you,’ I added.

Naked, I could see that his body was like a child’s, not the bold genitalia which I had seen on the men bathing in the river. I glanced at my sister and could see no expression on her face but gentle concern.

I helped her lie down on the bed next to the Pharaoh, adjusted the neck rest so that they lay together like statues, then took myself to the threshold, where I would lie for the rest of the night, as was my duty as attendant on the Great Royal Wife.

The sky was black. Little glints of moonlight sparked off the gold leaf of the great bed, which had leopard’s heads at one end and leopard’s tails at the other. A fine curtain hung from the uprights to exclude mosquitoes. I could only see them as shadows.

They had not moved to touch each other. Finally, his hand shifted and lay heavily on her thigh, and she bared her body. There was no doubt that she was willing to mate with him. She lay over him, her mouth finding his mouth, rubbing her soft cheek across his face, her hands moving to cup and stroke, seeking a phallus.

Evidently these caresses had no effect, because after perhaps half of an hour I heard her say softly,’ Are you not pleased with your handmaiden, lord?’ and I heard the Pharaoh begin to sob and scream.

Words tumbled from him, but I could not understand them. He was speaking in some hieratic dialect, some priestly tongue. Nefertiti turned on one elbow and gathered him into her arms, so that his face rested on her peerless breasts, and she soothed him as she had soothed me when I skinned my knees.

‘There, my lord, my love, there,’ she said in her honey-voice.

‘It is the will of the God,’ he said, finally, into her shoulder.

‘Which God, my lord?’ asked my sister. ‘Tell me, and I will have sacrifices made tomorrow, temples built. Which God requires your potency?’

‘There is only one God,’ he said flatly.

Nefertiti said nothing in reply; for it was absurd, only one God? Everyone knew ‘the Ennead’—the Nine of Thebes: Isis, sister-wife of Osiris; Nut the Sky, Geb the Earth, and Shu the Air their father, who comes between the mating of sky and earth and makes Day; Amen-Re who is the Sun; Set the Adversary; Anubis, God of the dead; and Thoth, God of Learning. Then of course comes Horus the Avenger, child of Isis. There are also the Twelve Gods of the Night and the Twelve Gods of the Day, and the countless other little Gods of house and village all up and down the Nile—who is himself a God, Hapi. One God? Which one?

I leaned back against the door, which was uncomfortably studded with copper nails, and listened in scorn.

‘Aten,’ whispered Akhnamen. ‘My father and I believe that there is one God, only one, who rules all the Heavens.’

‘But, my Lord,’ protested my sister. ‘What of Hathor and Horus? What of the others whom our fathers worshipped?’

‘They are nothing,’ he said fiercely, this King who lay on my sister’s breast. ‘They are delusions, fantasies of men who did not know the truth. There is only one. Unknowable, invisible, uncreated.’

‘Khnum the potter, who made men on his wheel?’ hazarded my sister, who had never been very interested in religion.

‘No! Your mind is corrupted, like all the others.’ He sat up abruptly. ‘Go, leave my presence.’

‘Lord, do not distress yourself,’ said Nefertiti. ‘I spoke only from ignorance, and did not the Divine Amenhotep your father say that Ignorance is the one disease which has an easy cure?’

He did. I had read that maxim of Amenhotep to my sister only the week before. The agitation of anger had tired the young King, and he sagged down into my sister’s arms again.

‘Ah, my lady, ‘ he said softly. ‘Thy breast is a pillow for my aching head.’

‘That is as it should be, lord,’ she said softly. ‘Let me sing to you, and then you will sleep.’

He must have nodded, for she began to sing very softly a lullaby sung by all mothers on the banks of the great River, from mud huts to palaces.

‘Sleep little child,

Thy mother is here.

Sleep is on the water

Sleep is in the reeds.

Birds rest with wings folded

Winds sleep in the sky.

The Gods guard the night

The Gods guard the Nile.

Khons counts the hours

The moon wanes. Sleep,

Mother’s breast bears you,

Little child, sleep.’

The Pharaoh sighed and snuggled closer, and soon I too slept.

In the morning my sister went to my mother and reported, ‘It is as you feared.’

Tey shot me a hard glance and I nodded, not venturing to speak. ‘You are sure that no stimulation can rouse him?’ asked Tey, and Nefertiti blushed. ‘Is it perhaps that he prefers men?’

‘No, I do not believe that he is potent at all,’ said my sister.

‘Then we shall appeal to the Lord Amenhotep, the Divine One,’ said Tey, who always made fast decisions.

‘Mother, wait,’ Nefertiti put her hand on my mother’s arm. ‘I would not shame him. He is possessed of a God, I am sure. A new God, one God, he says, Ruler of All. He says that this God requires his seed, that He took it all away from him when he was just grown, and he sickened but did not die. He is gentle, Mother Tey, and I love him. I will not leave him.’

Tey considered. She always put her head on one side when she was thinking, like a predatory bird. I could see what she was thinking. We had position—my mother was now Divine Nurse to the Queen of Upper and Lower Egypt. My father would not abandon this, even though he had married his daughter to a eunuch. And when Nefertiti said that she loved him and would not leave him, she meant it. Was not the household of Tey overloaded with people whom Nefertiti loved, who could not be dismissed and who did no work because they were old, crippled or crazed? Nefertiti has as soft a heart as Hathor herself. It was because of the Divine Nefertiti’s devotion to the lost and strayed that we had a one-armed doorkeeper, a cook who crooned all day to a strange little conic fetish, and a watchdog with three legs. Tey had frequently remarked that the concubine’s daughter could cherish a crocodile in her bosom, or wet-nurse a snake.

And she had clearly taken her husband under her protection, and there was no remedy for it.

‘We will speak privately with the Lord Amenhotep,’ decided Tey. ‘There need be no shame. But it is his posterity you guard, daughter, and he must know of a remedy. He is, after all, renowned for his wisdom.’

Nefertiti assented and went to her own quarters to be bathed and massaged with oil.

Mother Tey gave me a piece of honeyed bread and a draft of beer, sat me down on a cross-legged stool, and cross-examined me about all the events of the night. I answered as fully as I could, every sound and every word. I also described the appearance of the King, suppressing my comparison with the boys swimming in the river, as I did not think that I was supposed to look at them.

‘It is as she said,’ she muttered. ‘Good girl, Mutnodjme. Stay with your sister. I do not think he will harm her. She is gentle and loving. But you, my sharp-witted creature, do not you argue religion with him. Agree, daughter, and if you cannot agree, be silent!’

‘But Mother, he says there is only one God!’ I objected.

‘He is Pharaoh,’ snapped Tey. ‘He is a God. Presumably Gods know about Gods. Do as I say, Mutnodjme. And don’t gossip. News of this impotence must not spread abroad. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Mother,’ I understood enough. I knew that if it was known that the Co-Regent King was impotent, it would harm my sister. I loved my sister above anything, and my lips were sealed.

The next night they lay together again. She held him close, his head on her breast, and talked about Aten the Sun Disc until they both fell asleep.

I was asleep long before.

Ptah-hotep

A servant brought me to my chambers in the Palace at Thebes, and left me at the door. No courtesy could be expected, it seemed, from any of the incumbents. I was persona non grata, an upjumped schoolboy, and my most immediate need was a staff of my own, on whom I could rely.

How did one go about appointing people? Did I own anything?

I had a succession of opulent rooms, all painted with rural scenes. One room had the whole process of making flax. One wall was covered with duck hunting. Another was patterned with simple lotus and papyrus in the most enchanting blues and greens. My floor was of marble, set with gold flowers. I walked through my audience chamber, my library packed with shelves of records, my own shabby tools laid out on the inlaid table. I came to my own bathroom, my tiled alcove with water jars, my own closet, into my bedroom, where several rooms leading off it were evidently for the accommodation of my wives and children.

It was dark and cold. Someone had lit several lamps, but the rooms felt unoccupied. My own footsteps echoed. I took a woven blanket off the huge bed and something small and dark clacked to the floor, skittering into a corner.

I laid down my lamp, chased, cornered and crushed it.

It was the wrong time of the year for scorpions to invade the houses of men. It was not even spring. Someone must have gone to considerable trouble to find the poisonous insect in winter. I stood contemplating the still writhing carcass for some time.

Then I shook out the blanket, wrapped myself in it, and sat down in the alcove beside the door to think.

My first thought, that I could bring my dear love to the palace, must be dismissed. Kheperren would be an instrument for the palace to use against me, a hostage to my fortune. I did not greatly mind dying. I would join my grandfather in the Field of Reeds. I still missed my grandfather. But Kheperren was young, he had every right to live, and he could not live if he was with me.

I almost wept again at the thought. The idea that as Great Royal Scribe I could be reunited with him had been a warm glow at my heart for the whole strange day and night I had spent in Pharaoh’s palace. Indeed, I could not even see him again, or I might bring retribution down on him wherever he was. I must get a message to him before I took up my duties, for after that I would always be noticed and probably followed. Oh my brother, I mourned in the darkness of my elaborate rooms. Oh my heart, I have lost you, I have lost you.

I might have sat there in lonely misery all night if I had not heard footsteps approaching. They were confident and heavy, yet not mailed; not a soldier. I threw open the door, more angry than afraid, about to demand of the visitor whether they had any more scorpions.

‘Master,’ said Meryt, dropping to one knee. I laid one hand on her curly hair in token of possession. She gave me the invoice for ten copper ingots which made her mine.

I was so glad to see her that I could have embraced her. She was dressed in a patterned cloth, which must have been the parting present of her previous master. On her strong shoulder she bore a large basket, and in her hand she carried a bundle of papyrus rolls. She lowered her burden to the floor and smiled at me.

‘I thought that they would not have attended to you, Master,’ she said deferentially. ‘So I brought some food from the King’s kitchen. No hands but the cook’s and mine have touched it,’ she added, drawing forth some cooked duck, several loaves of bread, some grapes and a cinnamon cake. ‘There is also wine,’ she added.

‘You are kind,’ I said gratefully. ‘But you are in danger the whole time you are with me, and possibly I should not have done this to you after all, you showed me nothing but good will. Come, Meryt, look here.’

I showed her the remains of the scorpion, and she looked grave.

‘It is as I said, Master,’ she commented. ‘Tomorrow you must find some companions—such as can be trusted. But tonight we can search the bedding and remove any more. I am a slave,’ she said to me, her dark face hard to read in the dim light. ‘But I will serve you gladly, Master, for they seek your death, and that is not just. This appointment was none of your seeking, Lord Ptah-hotep. They gave me these, Lord, telling of your estates.’

‘My estates?’

I unrolled the papyri on the table. I read them. I rubbed my eyes. I read them again. I was indeed rich. I owned the yearly tribute of five villages, eleven vineyards, two hide-dressers and a stone quarry in Syene. My goods were all stored in the palace warehouses. I could have bought the School of Scribes and had goods left over for the Sacred Barge at Karnak. I felt dizzy. Meryt saw this and pushed me gently down onto an ebony chair.

‘Sit there, Master, have some wine and some of this good bread, and I’ll search the bedroom and make sure it is safe. Tomorrow my lord will be pleased to consider who may deserve the honour of a place in my Lord’s household. Tonight my lord needs rest.’

I drank wine red as blood and ate some meat and bread. I heard Meryt shaking out bedclothes, humming to herself and then singing softly. Light bloomed golden as she lit the big alabaster lamp in the shape of an ibis, symbol of Thoth God of Learning, patron of scribes.

‘Come, Master, it’s all well,’ she called, and I took my wine into my bedroom.

‘Meryt, eat,’ I said belatedly, and she hauled the basket into the room and closed the studded door. It latched with a click and I suddenly felt a good deal more secure. The bed was comfortable and I leaned against the painted wall and began to relax for the first time since I had entered my apartments.

Meryt sat down cross legged on the floor and ate. I liked watching her strong white teeth as she bit and swallowed, saying, ‘I never fed this well, Master, since I came to Pharaoh’s palace!’

‘How did you come here?’ I asked. I needed to know all about her, this woman whom I had so casually bought and paid for.

‘My father was a chief,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘He ambushed and killed a trading mission. Then the soldiers came, killed our young men, captured us and burned our village. I was a child. I have always been hungry since then. Not starving, Master, no slave starves in the palace. But there has always been a corner that could be filled. When I grew tall I showed a talent for healing, and the Chamberlain made me his healer, to attend to the slaves.’

So, taking me to Meryt had been an insult. It had, however, not been recognised at the time, which meant that its aim had been bad. And it had given me Meryt, who liked me. And if my estates sufficed to continue to feed her to satiety, she would probably be faithful. I was pleased with the outcome of my first insult in Pharaoh’s service, and sure that it would not be the last.

‘And then you bought me from that old man and here I am,’ she concluded, breaking the last cinnamon cake and giving half to me. ‘And I am yours, Master.’

I bit into the cinnamon cake and returned the grin.

I lay with her in the Great Royal Scribes’ bed, and refused her offer of her body. She was a little puzzled, but not offended, and we huddled close and warm until morning.

I woke with an arm over my chest. For a moment I was flooded with affection, believing that I lay with Kheperren, then I heard a woman cough, and realised that it was Meryt my slave and that I had to get up and assemble a household.

I was drinking warmed wine and nibbling a honeycake when I heard someone come in and kneel down. I looked up from the last census, which seemed to have been carried out with commendable efficiency, and saw the one I loved more than any other in the world. He was prostrate, his hand touching my foot, as any scribe should be before the Great Royal Scribe.

‘Meryt!’ I called. ‘Shut the outer door and stand guard!’ and as she ran to draw the big portal closed, I seized my dearest companion, dragging him into my arms. He fitted perfectly into my embrace, as he always had.

‘Oh my heart,’ I said into his hair. He hugged me for a moment, his fingers digging into my shoulder, and then whispered ‘ ‘Hotep, why did you not send for me?’

‘Because that would have meant your death, and still may if any marked you coming here.’

‘I don’t think so,’ his brow corrugated, as it always did when he was thinking. ‘I did not need to ask the way. I have been here before, when I took a message for the Master of Scribes to the old Royal Scribe. No one would have noticed me, particularly. What do you mean, I’m in danger? That means that you are in danger!’ He held me closer, his mouth against my jaw. ‘Let me stay with you,’ he begged.

‘No, I can’t, don’t ask me, brother of my heart. I love you too much to put you in such peril.’

His scent was on my skin, the dear scent of my own brother, and I allowed myself a moment to hold him tight, as though I could imprint his body on my body. Then I drew away from him. I felt strangely weak, as though I was bleeding from some invisible wound. If Kheperren argued with me, if he pleaded, I did not know whether I would be able to resist him. And I must resist.

But he did not speak, at first. He looked closely at me, as though he was memorising my features. He grew more beautiful every moment. His eyes were gentle and his mouth was soft. He kissed me, lips parting, tongues touching. I drank the sweet silkiness of his inner lip. Then he laid one hand very softly on my thigh, and my body reacted at once. He nodded, as though some private theory had been confirmed. Then he sat back on his heels and said diffidently, ‘What do you want me to do, brother?’

‘Forget me,’ I said. He shook his head so that his golden earrings tinkled.

‘I cannot do that,’ he said. ‘What else?’

‘Leave the palace without being observed. Never come here again. I am rich now, brother, I can give you an estate in the country, if you wish.’

‘I will never go there without you,’ he replied. He was not arguing, but he was definite. ‘If you are afraid for me, brother, you cannot give me anything without the envious ones knowing. That will attract their attention. Is this not true?’

‘Yes,’ I agreed, rather taken aback by his calm acceptance of the situation. Yet I was sure that he loved me.

This was confirmed when he took a seal cutting knife from my table and sawed off a lock of his hair. He gave it to me without speaking. I cut off a similar tress and he wound it around his fingers and stowed it in his cloth, against his skin. Such gifts are love gifts, yielding great power to the recipient. Any competent sorcerer could cast a curse on the giver if he had some of his hair.

Kheperren said abruptly, ‘They are taking scribes today for the army. I will go with Horemheb, the captain who is required to travel the border. I will write to you. And one day we will lie in our hut in the reeds, with a dog called Wolf on guard. The oracle said so,’ he told me.

He leaned forward and kissed me again. Our tears mingled.

‘But never ask me to forget you,’ he said.

Then he bowed to me. Meryt opened the door, and he was gone.

I stared for a time at the closed door. It had brazen studs in the shape of lotus blossoms. Then I sent Meryt to bring to my presence the Master of the House of Scribes.

I needed advice and a household before I called on the Chief Priest of Amen-Re at Karnak, the most powerful man in the kingdom, apart from the Son of Re.