Читать книгу Out of the Black Land - Kerry Greenwood - Страница 20

The summons from the High Priest of Amen-Re came for dinner the next day, when I had settled my scribes into my office and instructed them in their duties. It was basic record keeping, really, as the master had said. Not difficult, but requiring steady attention and some skill. Few actual orders issued from the office of the Great Royal Scribe, but he acted as auditor for the whole of the nation, expected to uncover fraud and misreporting, to protect the common people from over-zealous officials and extortion, and to oversee the administration of the kingdom.

He was - I was - also responsible for receiving the Nomarch's accounts, the Chief Watcher's report on the state of lawlessness in Egypt, and for recording the Lord Akhnamen's thoughts and orders.

That seemed to be enough for one very youthful scribe whose previous heaviest responsibility had been as overseer of a class of ten boys.

And Pharaoh still had not sent for me. I wondered if he had forgotten me, and if I should ask for an audience with him. Perhaps he was leaving me for a decan to find out if I could avoid assassination for ten days.

That might prove to be harder than I thought.

Meryt had come to me at dawn, brow wrinkled.

'Lord, someone tried to get into my chamber last night.'

'There could be many reasons for that,' I said sleepily. With her beautiful smile and her rounded body, many men would have found Meryt attractive. She shook her head and her earrings chimed.

'Nothing as innocent as that,' she protested. 'Besides, no one would dare. I belong to you, Master. I don't like this. I heard someone try the door; saw the handle move. Lord, I want to spend some of your gold and make you a gift.'

Her face was solemn, and I shook myself into real wakefulness.

'You may spend my gold. I will accept your gift,' I said, matching her seriousness.

'Thank you. I will be gone perhaps an hour, Master. Wait for me, fasting, if you will.'

'Very well,' I agreed. Fasting was no great pain to me. I doused a pang of some unexpected emotion - was it disappointment as to the nature of her gift? Since I had refused her offer of her body, she had not attempted any intimacy. Meryt bowed and left, closing my door behind her.

She had returned within her time, towing a heavy chain behind her. It appeared to be suspended in the air and I was surprised at the size of the hound to which it was attached. He was huge. 'This is Anubis,' Meryt informed me. 'A Nubian hound for a Nubian slave, and he has cost you an ingot of gold, Master.'

Anubis sat down, all paws together, and regarded me with an intelligence which was vaguely disturbing from a canine. He was part-jackal, perhaps, a black, high shouldered dog with a pointed muzzle, long legs and a long whip-like tail. I had seen such hounds racing alongside chariots.

'He's a hunting dog, a war-dog,' I said. 'Meryt, what have you spent my gold ingot on? He surely will not be comfortable in a palace.'

'His kind comes from the Mountains of the Moon; my home now lost forever. Such hounds belong to kings, and his father belonged to my father, captured as loot when my village was raided. He is a Nubian, as I am, and we are faithful to death.'

Meryt stood with her dark hand on the hound's black head. Both pairs of eyes were regarding me almost dispassionately, but with such steadfastness that my own eyes burned and I had to look away. What had I done to deserve such loyalty? I was only a scribe, son of a scribe, no great warrior or captain.

Meryt continued, 'Once he knows that you are his Lord, he will allow no thief or murderer close. He will not bay and arouse the palace, but come and wake you. And at a pinch, Master, he will defend you with his life. That's why I wanted you to fast. He needs to identify your scent, not mixed with onions or wine.'

She led the hound forward and pushed his muzzle into the gap between my arm and my side. I felt the cold nose tickle, and the dog took two deep snuffling breaths, recording my scent. Then he pulled away from Meryt's grasp and lay down, putting his head between my two hands. In that position he was helpless and at my mercy. It was an act of formal obeisance as graceful as any courtier, as graceful as the other Nubian in my service.

'Anubis, I accept your fealty,' I said gravely, deeply touched.

Meryt nodded and went to fetch our breakfast. Anubis accepted the two scribes, sniffing them as they came in, carrying bundles of possessions and their working tools.

'Lord, it's a wolf!' exclaimed Khety.

'It's a dog,' Hanufer reproved him. This was typical of their relationship. Hanufer had no imagination at all. Khety had too much. Together, I hoped, my office would be balanced.

We laid out the work for the day and the two scribes sat down to become familiar with the extent of the Great Royal Scribe's responsibility. It did not look so unmanageable with someone else to read the endless reports and tell me what was happening. We were in the middle of the Hare Nome's report on the repairs to the canals when there was a disturbance in the outer office and I went out.

'Call him off!' gasped a tall young man wearing an expensive, food-spotted cloth and a wig which had evidently not been cleaned since last night's feast. The perfume cone which had dripped scented oil was matted into it and he stank of wine. Anubis had backed him against the wall and the oil from his headdress was marking my lotus frieze.

'Anubis, release him and come here,' I said quietly, wondering if the hound would obey me.

Meryt had spoken truly, as was her habit. Anubis left the cowering young man and came to me, sitting down composedly at my side.

'Who are you?'

'I'm Mentu; you called for me,' blurred the man, straightening the wig and wiping more oil over my delicately painted wall.

'Come away from there,' I ordered. 'Anubis will not hurt you, unless I so order him. Meryt, some wine, if you please. Sit down,' I told my second.

'What a remarkable hound,' said Mentu, sitting down as ordered and discarding the wig. He dropped it to the floor where it lay like a dead rabbit. 'Where did you get him, Lord?'

'He comes from Nubia,' I evaded the question, because I did not know from whom Meryt had bought him. 'From the Mountains of the Moon. Mentu, I am minded to appoint you as my Second Scribe. Will you accept the appointment?'

Now that I was close to him, I could see that he was not so young. Hard drinking and some hard exercise - chariot racing, perhaps? - had put harsh lines into his face and crow's feet around his eyes. Though presenting a picture of dissipation, he was examining me with eyes which were quite bright and present.

'It would please my father, and he holds the key to the treasure-chest,' said Mentu consideringly. 'What would you wish me to do?'

'You can do as you like,' I said. 'You can attend here and help in the management of the kingdom, or you can race horses and drink every night.'

'I see,' Mentu accepted a cup of Tashery vintage - the amphora was already open - and sipped. His eyebrows rose.

'I see your plan,' he commented. 'I would be the last person anyone would want as Great Royal Scribe.' This was a rather alarming insight, but I said nothing. 'In fact, the scheme may work to both of our advantages, Lord Ptah-hotep. I wish to feast and enjoy myself, you wish to run the kingdom. Or maybe it is true that you were just selected at random out of the school of scribes solely to annoy the old man Nebemanet, who made his disapproval of the Divine Akhnamen's religious views so distressingly plain to Pharaoh's Royal Father?'

'I was selected by Pharaoh may he live out of the school of scribes,' I agreed. 'Why, I still do not know and I have not seen Divine Akhnamen since.'

'He will call for you,' said Mentu, sipping more of my wine. 'Do not, if you will accept my advice, argue matters of gods with him. They say that he is perilous if crossed, and as he elevated you out of the school, he can cast you down again, and all those who hold with you.

'Do I wish to involve myself in office, when I could thus be ruined if you make a false step; or if Divine Akhnamen takes against you? A pretty problem. I believe that the answer lies in the bottom of another cup of wine.'

Meryt poured more wine for him. He looked at her.

'A Nubian hound, a Nubian slave they are powerful arguments for your influence, Lord. Neither give their allegiance lightly. You, woman,' he addressed Meryt roughly.

She knelt. A slave is required to kneel if she is spoken to by the nobility. Her face was perfectly blank, like a carving in ebony. I struggled with rising anger.

'Lord, what do you require?'

'Are you owned by this young man?' he pointed at me. Meryt nodded.

'Has he your loyalty?'

'He has,' said Meryt. Mentu considered her, then reached out and playfully tugged a tress of beaded, plaited hair.

'You're a good girl,' he commented, and gestured to her to rise. She did so with perfect, athletic ease. 'I might be of use to you, Lord, though not as a scribe. I know the palace, Lord Ptah-hotep. I accept your appointment. I will serve you faithfully. Now, what do you want to know?'

'Tell me about the Master of Scribes,' I said, as a test of his accuracy.

'A good man, if dry as the papyrus he studies. From an old family. Reliable, loyal, all those cold virtues.' So far I agreed with my new second in command.

'The Nomarch of the Nome of the Hare?' I asked at a venture, having just read his report.

'Drinks too much and quarrels incessantly with the Nomarch of Heliopolis. They share family connections - his First Wife is the Heliopolitan's sister. Spends too much of his inheritance on boats and huge feasts.'

'Is he cheating on his taxation?' I hazarded, not knowing how far Mentu would be willing to go in informing on his friends.

'Probably. Look for inconsistencies in the returns on fish; it's been a wonderful season for fish. And turtles.'

'How about Heliopolis, then?'

'Fat and lazy, do anything to avoid trouble. Wouldn't run the risk of cheating, because it would mean that he had to make an effort. Has a longstanding argument with the Temple of Osiris on the bank opposite the city. Study the temple's share closely; he'll shave their ingots if he can.'

'And Thebes?'

'Ah, that is my cousin.'

Without being asked, Meryt filled the cup of this loquacious informant. I found myself beginning to like Mentu, though he was everything I disapproved of in a man.

'Your cousin?'

'Indeed. Now he will pay more than he is required to pay to the Temple of Hathor, because he and the temple priestesses have an understanding. Whenever he feels the need of comfort, he calls for them and they attend his palace and relieve his... monotony,' Mentu laughed and I joined in.

'They are very skilled, the ladies of the Lady of Love and Beauty. The feast of Horus and Hathor is famed all over the known world. Achaeans and Trojans and Klepht travel many leagues to lie down in their smooth arms and taste their divine kisses. May I hope that my Lord will come with me to Edfu when the season comes?'

This was a loaded question, and I contented myself with a nod. I had never lain with a woman and did not know if I desired to taste such well-travelled flesh.

'Apart from his fascination with the priestesses?'

'Thebes is rich in his own right, no commoner's son.'

I allowed the silence to grow long after the initial discomfort.

Mentu shifted on his chair. Finally he said, 'No insult was meant, Lord. But if he is rich in his own right, he is less likely to peculate. Except for his expenses in love, you can trust the Theban Nomarch.'

I recalled my invitation to the temple at Karnak. 'The High Priest of Amen-Re?' I asked.

'Death in a white robe,' said Mentu promptly.