City of Dreams (19 page)

There, as in a wall painting, stood the house. He was sure it was the house, though he had barely been aware of it at the time. Now he could see that the original whitewash had turned pale beige. The blank brown door was peeling. High in the wall there was a small, shuttered window. Otherwise the wall was unbroken to the tiled roof and for twenty paces in either direction.

Ankhu knocked on the door and almost immediately it was opened, closing behind him as soon as he had entered. Nebamun waited in the street. Huy watched from his corner, praying that no stray servant would come upon him and question him. The wall of the house opposite, as he had expected, was blank. The entrance was therefore not overlooked. There was no shop, no well, not even a shady square at one end of the street.

The mist had dispersed and the rising sun in the
matet
boat cast a shadowless white light. Aware of the noise his sandals made on the gravel, Huy walked away from the corner and found a small patch of shade. Covering his head, he squatted down to wait.

After no more than five minutes, Ankhu emerged and walked back the way he had come, Nebamun falling into step beside him without a word. He no longer carried the parcel wrapped in vine leaves. Huy watched them go. Ankhu’s eyes were dark, his jaw clenched in anger.

Huy settled back. Nothing moved and there was no sound. People who were going out would have left by now and no one would return before the sun had passed its high point. The light turned the dusty floor of the street white, and its movement robbed him of the grudging shade. An hour passed, and as if by a signal the crickets started in unison, their monotonous song making him drowsy as small shadows once again began to colonise the street. So quiet was it that a cobra uncoiled itself from some hidden recess and, black against the white, made its unhurried, liquid way down the centre of the street. Another hour went by, and Huy was beginning to wonder if he had been mistaken to stay, if perhaps no one would emerge before night, when the door opened, and a tall, well-dressed man, his head cloaked in a shawl against the sun, emerged and hurried down the street towards the centre of the town.

Huy had recognised Surere immediately, but dressed as he was he would arouse no attention in anyone else. He would soon mingle with the crowd. Huy was pleased that he had thought in the same way as Surere: now was the safest time of day to move around, when people’s minds were on their work and their own affairs, when there were plenty of people about, and when heat slowed the senses of all but those who needed to be alert to survive.

As soon as the slender figure had vanished at the end of the street, Huy walked swiftly up to the door and ran his good right hand around it. It was a well-made door, set flush to the wall, and its bolt was so cleverly concealed that Huy could not find it. However it had a wooden handle set in its centre. Huy managed to place one foot on it, and, by reaching up, grasped the upper edge of the lintel above the door, and hauled himself up. Balancing on his feet and the painfully extended fingers of his left hand, he reached up with his right to the shutters of the small window. Sweat poured down his face as he manipulated them, letting out his breath with a rush when he succeeded in opening them. They swung out under their own weight and banged against the wall. Huy held his breath. The noise had been a thunderclap. For long moments he clung there, unwilling to give up his hard-attained position if he could continue to take advantage of it, but afraid that someone would come running. No one did. Laboriously, he got his good hand over the sill, and by pushing himself to the utmost of his height with his feet, he managed to shove and haul himself up and through the window.

He fell on to the wooden floor of the room behind it with a crash, feeling a stab of pain as his injured left arm took his weight. But in a moment he was upright, and had closed the shutters. He recognised the room instantly. Cautiously he made his way across it to the door and listened; but he knew that if there had been servants, or even a dog, they would long since have been aroused. A part of his heart allowed itself to be momentarily amused at his foolhardiness. Then he opened the door.

He was standing on a narrow gallery overlooking a courtyard which was far smaller than the front of the house justified. It had a neat, but neglected air: a dusty palm tree bowed over a stone bench near a small pool which had been allowed to become half empty. There was no sign of life, or even of occupation. Next to the door of the room from which he had just emerged was another, and next to that an inward-facing window. Beyond it, steep steps — all but a ladder — led down to the courtyard.

Huy did not want to spend longer than he had to upstairs. Here, he was trapped, as there would be no question of escaping from the house again by the window he had entered at. Hastily he tried the door of the second room, and found that it yielded. Inside, there was an old bed, which did not appear to be in use, and the usual low table and chair. A brief search revealed nothing, apart from two crumbling rolls of papyrus on which the writing was too faded to be decipherable.

There were no further rooms on this floor: the wall forming the opposite side of the courtyard must have belonged to another house. Downstairs, there were two more rooms. One was an entrance hall. The other contained a bed, a long, low table, and three stools. On two of the stools small, identical wooden chests had been placed. On the table was the package Ankhu had brought. It had been opened. The contents, still neatly packed, glittered in the soft light: agates, amethysts, red and yellow jasper, beryls, carnelians, garnets, lapis lazuli and gold beads. Some were in the form of necklaces, others of earrings; most were loose stones. Taking care not to disturb them, his ears always straining to pick up any sound from the street outside, Huy turned his attention to the two boxes. One was new; the other, Huy now saw, was chafed, and bore traces of sand. It was made of good cedarwood, and its bottom was wet.

Both boxes were fitted with simple bolts, which, however, Huy drew cautiously. Surere would not have been above placing scorpions in the boxes if he had suspected for a moment that they might be tampered with. The new box contained more jewels and gold beads. It was almost full, and Huy could not lift it with one hand. There were no scorpions. The second box contained papers. They were accounts. Each of the five small rolls of papyrus bore tightly-crammed lists of figures, in red and black ink.

Huy scanned their contents swiftly and understood. He also understood why the rolls of paper were new, though their contents covered transactions several years old. They were copies. Surere would have the originals safe somewhere else. He must have secured them as insurance, before his downfall.

Outside, it did not take Huy long to find the recently-dug hole, concealed by a flagstone, in which Surere had hidden the box of papers. He could imagine the transaction by which he presented one little scroll to Ankhu in return for each new delivery of jewels, no doubt promising the return of the originals once he was safely away. In the meantime, Huy imagined, Surere had found a way of financing his mission.

ELEVEN

Returning to the room from the courtyard, Huy put everything back exactly as he had found it. He made sure that his knife was close to hand, and walked outside again, seating himself on the stone bench by the pool. For the first time he noticed that it contained two large fish, gasping side by side near the surface, their stupid, greedy faces staring avidly at nothing. Huy looked around for the water storage jar, found it, and with a small wooden bucket he passed his time by refilling the pool to the brim. He hoped the fish would be grateful, and wondered how long a wait he had ahead of him before Surere reappeared. He lay down on the stone bench.

He knew he had slept, for there was a cramp in his neck and the memory of a dream: he had been on the River, on a boat with Aahmes and their children. It was the time of the
Opet
festival, and they had been happy, making their new year vows to each other with no reserve in their eyes or in their hearts. He could still see the sunlight on the water. Now, as he looked around the dark courtyard, rubbing his neck, he realised that he was still alone. He glanced up at the star-crowded sky, calculating the time. By the temperature alone, it must have been well past the sixth hour.

A prescient instinct must have awoken him, for a matter of minutes later the bolt of the door was drawn softly, and Surere slipped into the courtyard. Huy made no attempt to move from his place on the bench, though the stone was cool now and hurt his rump, but the former
nomarch
, his heart turned in on itself, did not notice him immediately. His expression was intent.

As soon as Surere saw him he darted forward, like an animal that does not give warning before it attacks, his hand moving swiftly to his hip for his knife. But Huy already had his out and had stood with equal speed, presenting the side of his body to his adversary, balancing on his toes. For a moment they were still, staring at each other in silence, the world shrunk to the space they stood in. Then Surere smiled.

‘So. This time you visit me.’

‘Yes.’

‘How did you find me?’

‘I followed Ankhu. I was surprised to see him. I thought he was gathering a party to hunt you.’

Surere looked thoughtful. ‘That is unlikely, but the boy is full of bluster. In any case, as you have discovered, he knows where I am. How long have you been here?’

‘Since then.’

‘So you have found everything.’

‘You hid nothing.’

Surere shrugged. ‘It was over.’

‘Do you have the original papyri?’

‘They are safe.’

‘Why did you do this, Surere?’

‘It was a way of ensuring my safety, and it became a way of collecting funds for my work. I was reclaiming what rightfully belonged to the Aten.’

‘When did this start?’

Surere smiled. ‘Many years ago.’

‘At the City of the Horizon?’

‘Yes.’

‘How did you know what Reni was doing?’

Surere spread his hands. ‘I had the queen’s confidence. She did not understand figures, but perhaps she had an inkling something was wrong. I told her that I would keep an eye on things.’

‘But how did you get hold of Reni’s accounts?’

‘That was easy. He fled the city before its collapse. Many of the great officials thought their slate would be wiped clean with the downfall of the king. I made copies myself, and had them, and the originals, hidden here, in the Southern Capital, shortly before Akhenaten’s death. We all knew it was coming.’ 

‘Who hid them for you?’

‘Someone I could trust. Amenenopet, that sweet boy.’

‘How did you know you would need them?’

Surere smiled again. ‘I didn’t. But I knew that Reni was treacherous enough to have a good chance of surviving the Fall. I swore that if I ever survived, I would make him pay.’

‘I have read your copies. Did Reni believe you still had the originals?’

‘He couldn’t take risks. He recognised his own work. And it made sense to pay me. If the state had found out, he would have had to return it all. He would have been disgraced; and he would have been exiled from the city. It would have killed him.’

‘He could have killed you.’

‘There was that risk. But I think he was too frightened. He could not know what I had done with the originals, which he believed destroyed years ago. He could not know what provision I had made.’

‘What provision had you made?’

‘None. But I knew that God would protect me as I was working for Him.’

‘What about Reni’s daughters?’

Surere sighed. ‘That was a pity. After Nephthys had been killed, I knew I could no longer rely on him. His sadness was beginning to make him reckless. He began to speak of sacrifices to Selkit. She is his guardian goddess.’

Huy’s mind raced. The
scorpion
goddess. The goddess of the heat of the sun’s rays.

‘I told him she would not help. He had taken what belonged to Amun, under orders to render it to Aten. But he kept it for himself.’

Huy remembered the great tax levies imposed on the old religion by Akhenaten shortly before his departure from the Southern Capital for the City of the Horizon. Reni had been heavily involved. All the valuables stored up by the priests of Amun were forfeited, taken to finance the new city and the new cult of the One God. Inevitably, some of the funds went missing in the transition, lost in the paperwork: a caravan of donkeys disappeared in the desert, a bullion barge sunk without trace in the river. With the reversion to the old order, the priests of Amun had clawed almost everything back. But not all.

‘If Reni had betrayed me I would have given myself up to Kenamun and bought my life with Reni’s false accounts,’ said Surere. ‘They would have sent me back to the labour camps; but at least I would still have been in this world, to escape again, to do my work for the Aten.’

‘Might Reni have guessed your plan?’

‘Perhaps. It would not have mattered. It might not even have worked. Reni has ingratiated himself with Kenamun. He has information too, which the priest wouldn’t wish to be made public.’

‘How do you know?’

‘His son told me.’

‘Why?’

‘He hates his father.’

‘Then why did he not betray him?’

‘He is too good a son for that.’

‘But he knows what material his father has to threaten Kenamun with?’

Surere smiled. He no longer looked mad at all. ‘There is a brothel in the palace compound which caters to…special tastes. Kenamun has such tastes. Reni has an interest in the brothel. When I restore the true faith, I will return here and burn all such places to the ground, with their occupants. There will be such cleansing as this city has never known. If only there were not this delay I would leave tonight — but for the orders of the king.’

Huy watched in amazement as Surere abruptly threw himself down on to the stone bench and succumbed to a racking fit of weeping. There was nothing Huy could do to stop it or to give comfort. Awkwardly, he reached forward and touched Surere’s shoulder. It felt strange to him to be on a such a footing with this man. It was as if their pasts belonged to other people. He wondered if his own mind could have weathered what Surere’s had been through; the changes it had experienced, after so much confidence and so much power. 

The weeping subsided. Huy fetched water for Surere to wash in. While the man was recovering, he searched for food. There was none in the house.

‘What are the orders of the king?’ he asked, finally.

Surere was eager to tell him. ‘He is unlike the man I remember. Our lord was always firm, but he was never cruel. He never let anything get in his way, but he did no injustice to anyone else.’

‘What did he say?’ persisted Huy gently.

‘I am glad you are here tonight. I have been in such perplexity. Every order he has given me I have obeyed: to stay here when I wanted to leave; to collect more and more from Reni even though I had enough. And now this.’ Surere lapsed once again into an infuriating, brooding silence.

‘Now?’ Huy ventured at length. He dared not push too hard; nor was he sure yet whether the king existed anywhere but in Surere’s heart.

‘He tells me I must say I killed the four girls.’

Huy did not speak at once. He did not know how much Surere knew about the murders; he was not even sure that Surere was not the murderer. This order from the king was unambivalent; but if Surere was guilty, and the king a figment of his heart, then why should he feel that the demand was unjust? But there was another thing. Five girls had died.

‘Did you agree?’

‘How could I? I have killed no one. If there is need for the innocent of this city to perish, to be spared iniquity, then it is for God to decide. And if God chooses me to be his agent in this, I will know.’

‘Are you sure you have not been chosen, perhaps without the conscious knowledge of your heart?’

‘How could I have performed the killings? In the palace compound?’

‘You have learnt stealth.’

‘You will not believe me.’

‘You know how many girls have died. Do you know their names?’

‘Yes.’ 

‘How? Because you watched them? Because you decided they should die?’

Surere looked like a trapped beast. He sucked in his breath. ‘I know them because the king told me.’

‘When?’

‘Tonight.’

‘Why I should believe you?’

Surere was still for an instant, then came to a decision. ‘You must see the king for yourself. You are a faithful servant. He will welcome you.’

Huy hesitated. Fear, sudden and undeniable, rose in his throat. ‘Where do you meet him?’

But Surere was cunning. ‘I will show you. And you will not leave me before we go. I do not want you to trap me.’

‘I swear I will not.’

‘He has told me to come to him again this next night. He says he will bring a confession. I must sign it and then die.’ Surere said this with simple regret. ‘Perhaps we can dissuade him. I have more important work to do for him. It is not yet my time to die. I will teach the Semites the doctrine of Aten.’

The day that followed was the longest of Huy’s life. He discussed the reign of Akhenaten endlessly with Surere, going over and over the last days, the final insanity, the wilful sacrifice of the northern empire. Surere reminisced sentimentally about his last lover, the freed slave Amenenopet, that joyful young man from beyond the Great Green somewhere, with his fair skin and blond, curly hair. How the sun had tormented him at first! Did Huy know what had happened to him? How long it had taken him to get used to his Black Land name! And his laughter — like bells ringing in a strange land. When talk faded, Surere produced a box of
senet
, and they played the game until the sun set, each man feeling the anticipation rise in his stomach with the lengthening of the shadows, and each aware of it in the other. Neither had eaten, and Surere had not mentioned food. There was only water to drink. Huy felt in need of bread and wine, but knew that lack of them sharpened his senses.

He managed to fit veiled questions into the conversation about the deaths of Merymose and the Twin Rivers girl. Surere showed no interest in either of them, nor did he seem to know anything about them.

The long hours, the stilted conversation, the tension of the approaching night, took their toll on Huy. By contrast, Surere was serene. He constantly spoke of the comfort he derived from Huy’s presence, and the pleasure he would take in presenting him to the king.

‘Keep in the background at the beginning,’ he said. ‘I will call you when the moment comes.’

Huy knew then that they would meet no king. He felt the knife resting against his thigh under his kilt. Tomorrow, he would tell Ipuky what he believed. Ipuky would tell Kenamun, and Kenamun would have his murderer. Then, perhaps, Huy would discover what had happened to Merymose, and the Twin Rivers girl, and how their deaths fitted into the puzzle that had thrown out two more strands now.

At last Surere stood up. Suddenly all the hours of waiting seemed too short a time. Fatigue had to be shouldered aside. Huy splashed his face with water and shook out his kilt. His stomach was hollow.

‘I am ready.’

Surere had hidden the two boxes, pushing them under the bed in an arbitrary and untidy way which was uncharacteristic but which indicated that his heart was already on other matters. Silently they passed through the door and into the street. There was no moon but the sky dazzled with stars, the old immortal ones, who were there before the gods themselves, and who had looked down on the Black Land even before men, the inventors of God, walked the earth. That had been the teaching of the Aten. Out of what curious animal did we stumble? Huy thought, following Surere’s lean back as he led the way down through the streets towards the quay.

Apart from a few watchmen posted on the laden boats, no one was about. Surere made his way north along the river-front until he came to a small wooden jetty ending in a ladder, at the foot of which a small ferry-boat was moored. They climbed aboard and Surere cast off, manoeuvring the little craft into the stream with ease.