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.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mutnodjme
Tey my mother and Nefertiti the Queen and I went to see the Great Royal Wife Tiye, our relative, and nearest way to the Pharaoh Amenhotep's private ear. We found her bathing. Her hair was loose, uncovered by her usual Nubian wig, and it was indeed red and long enough to reach to her waist. She lay back in a pool of water in which leaves had been strewed, and I smelt a sharp herbal scent; mint, perhaps, and wormwood. Her body was swelled with pregnancy. She was pale, as pale as marble, as pale as milk. I had never seen such skin before. The colour of her hair - Set the murderer's colour - would have caused her early death in some parts of the Kingdom. Even in the enlightened and civilised city, she usually kept her head covered in public. But the hair was not red, I realised, it was like copper wire; a fine, fiery tint, a fox colour. She looked tired and the herbs she was bathing in were selected to refresh an exhausted woman.
But her eyes, when she opened them, were slate-coloured and bright. She saw us come in, motioned us to sit down, and dismissed her attendants, three young women and one old woman who drew away beyond the door-curtain, block printed with indigo lotuses. The maidens seemed reluctant to leave Tiye, eying us suspiciously. The Lady of the Two Lands, the Queen of all Egypt, sat up unaffectedly, flicked her hair over her milk white shoulder, and smiled.
'You have come to tell me about my son,' she said, reaching out both hands so that we could help her out of the pool. I rushed to help. She was not like my beautiful sister, slim and delicate; but was wide hipped and her breasts were big
