who is truly devoted to your interests? I do not mean one of the family.’
‘Hori—my good Hori? He is in every way my right hand—and a man of good sense and discrimination.’
Nofret said slowly:
‘He and Yahmose are like brothers. Perhaps—’
‘There is Kameni. He, too, is a scribe. I will enjoin on him to place himself at your service. If you have anything of which to complain, he will write down your words with his pen and despatch the complaint to me.’
Nofret nodded appreciatively.
‘That is a good thought. Kameni comes from the North. He knows my father. He will not be influenced by family considerations.’
‘And Henet,’ exclaimed Imhotep. ‘There is Henet.’
‘Yes,’ said Nofret, reflectively. ‘There is Henet. Suppose that you were to speak to her now—in front of me?’
‘An excellent plan.’
Henet was sent for and came with her usual cringing eagerness. She was full of lamentations over Imhotep’s departure. Imhotep cut her short with abruptness.
‘Yes, yes, my good Henet—but these things must be. I am a man who can seldom count on any stretch of peace or rest. I must toil ceaselessly for my family—little though they sometimes appreciate it. Now I wish to speak to you very seriously. You love me faithfully and devotedly, I know—I can leave you in a position of trust. Guard Nofret here—she is very dear to me.’
‘Whoever is dear to you, master, is dear to me,’ Henet declared with fervour.
‘Very good. Then you will devote yourself to Nofret’s interests?’
Henet turned towards Nofret who was watching her under lowered lids.
‘You are too beautiful, Nofret,’ she said. ‘That is the trouble. That is why the others are jealous—but I will look after you—I will warn you of all they say and do. You can count on me!’
There was a pause whilst the eyes of the two women met.
‘You can count on me,’ Henet repeated.
A slow smile came to Nofret’s lips—a rather curious smile.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I understand you, Henet. I think I can count on you.’
Imhotep cleared his throat noisily.
‘Then I think all is arranged—yes—everything is satisfactory. Organization—that has always been my strong point.’
There was a dry cackle of laughter and Imhotep turned sharply to see his mother standing in the entrance of the room. She was supporting her weight on a stick and looked more dried up and malevolent than ever.
‘What a wonderful son I have!’ she observed.
‘I must not delay—there are some instructions to Hori—’ Muttering importantly, Imhotep hurried from the room. He managed to avoid meeting his mother’s eye.
Esa gave an imperious nod of the head to Henet—and Henet glided obediently out of the room.
Nofret had risen. She and Esa stood looking at each other. Esa said: ‘So my son is leaving you behind? You had better go with him, Nofret.’
‘He wishes me to stay here.’
Nofret’s voice was soft and submissive. Esa gave a shrill chuckle.
‘Little good that would be if you wanted to go! And why do you not want to go? I do not understand you. What is there for you here? You are a girl who has lived in cities—who has perhaps travelled. Why do you choose the monotony of day after day here—amongst those who—I am frank—do not like you—who in fact dislike you?’
‘So you dislike me?’
Esa shook her head.
‘No—I do not dislike you. I am old and though I can see but dimly—I can still see beauty and enjoy it. You are beautiful, Nofret, and the sight of you pleases my old eyes. Because of your beauty I wish you well. I am warning you. Go North with my son.’
Again Nofret repeated: ‘He wishes me to stay here.’
The submissive tone was now definitely impregnated with mockery. Esa said sharply:
‘You have a purpose in remaining here. What is it, I wonder? Very well, on your own head be it. But be careful. Act discreetly. And trust no one.’
She wheeled abruptly and went out. Nofret stood quite still. Very slowly her lips curved upwards in a wide, catlike smile.
Renisenb had got into the habit of going up to the Tomb almost every day. Sometimes Yahmose and Hori would be there together, sometimes Hori alone, sometimes there would be no one—but always Renisenb was aware of a curious relief and peace—a feeling almost of escape. She liked it best when Hori was there alone. There was something in his gravity, his incurious acceptance of her coming, that gave her a strange feeling of contentment. She would sit in the shade of the rock chamber entrance with one knee raised and her hands clasped round it, and stare out over the green belt of cultivation to where the Nile showed a pale gleaming blue and beyond it to a distance of pale soft fawns and creams and pinks, all melting hazily into each other.
She had come the first time, months ago now, on a sudden wish to escape from a world of intense femininity. She wanted stillness and companionship—and she had found them here. The wish to escape was still with her, but it was no longer a mere revulsion from the stress and fret of domesticity. It was something more definite, more alarming.
She said to Hori one day: ‘I am afraid …’
‘Why are you afraid, Renisenb?’ He studied her gravely.
Renisenb took a minute or two to think. Then she said slowly:
‘Do you remember saying to me once that there were two evils—one that came from without and one from within?’
‘Yes, I remember.’
‘You were speaking, so you said afterwards, about diseases that attack fruit and crops, but I have been thinking—it is the same with people.’
Hori nodded slowly.
‘So you have found that out … Yes, you are right, Renisenb.’
Renisenb said abruptly:
‘It
