Scroll of Saqqara(129)
It appeared deserted, as usual, the quality of its deep quiet like a lullaby sung to a fretting child. Khaemwaset, alighting and approaching the open door to the entrance hall, was suddenly and disturbingly reminded of the charm his nurse used to chant softly each night by his couch to prevent the terrible night demon, She-with-her-faceturned-backward, from flowing into the room and stealing away his breath. He would lie half-terrified, half-fascinated, his eyes fixed trustingly on the nurse’s face as she swayed to the words, while the darkness in the awesomely large chamber seemed to ripple and change shape just outside the periphery of his vision. “May she flow away, she who comes in the darkness, who enters in furtively with her nose behind her, her face turned backward, failing in that for which she came. Hast thou come to kiss this child? I will not let thee kiss him! Hast thou come to injure him? I will not let thee injure him! Hast thou come to take him away? I will not let thee take him away from me!” My mother loved me with the same fierce devotion as that old nurse, he thought with genuine remorse. Her duties as queen never kept her from my side if I was ill or afraid. Yet when she needed me I was not there. In her last hours my place beside her bed was empty. I have failed her. Failed my father also, for I have abused the trust he placed in me to be his eyes and ears in government. The official missives lie piled on my desk like river flotsam because I do not recognize myself anymore. The man who would have viewed the shame of these betrayals with horror is dead, slain by the poison of a woman in his veins.
With a grimace he spoke to the black-skinned servant who had risen from the pleasant dimness and as silently glided away. Then Tbubui was coming swiftly across the plain white tiling of the floor, her pretty face solemn, her arms outstretched. Taking his hands she gazed intently into his face.
“Dear Khaemwaset,” she said. “I received a message from Sheritra last night, asking that her belongings be returned home and explaining why. You have suffered a double loss. I am so sorry.”
Khaemwaset melted under her concern. Drawing her to him he held her slim, tight body against his own and laid his chin on the smooth top of her head. He was aware that she wore no perfume today and the warm, simple odour of her hair filled his nostrils. He felt himself begin to relax, an internal loosening that reminded him of how tense he had been.
“I confess that my mother’s death touches me less deeply than the loss of Penbuy,” he murmured. “We all knew that she was dying, and for her the prospect was a welcome one. But Penbuy had barely finished building his tomb on the edge of the Memphis necropolis. He was very proud of its decorations.”
“It is no wonder that your servants are devoted to you,” she replied, her voice muffled in his neck. “Come, dear brother. In my room there is wine and I will massage sweet oils into your shoulders. I can feel how distressed you are by the state of the muscles in your back.” At her words he was immediately aware of her touch on his spine, one hand between his shoulder-blades, one on the small of his back just above the belt of his kilt, and deliriously he imagined them sliding downward, cupping his buttocks, pressing them gently …
“Is Sisenet here?” he asked drowsily.
She disengaged and smiled up at him. “No. My brother and Harmin have taken a tent and gone out onto the desert to hunt for three days. They left at dawn. Harmin was very distressed that Sheritra would not be returning until the period of mourning for her grandmother is over.” Taking him by the hand she began to lead him to the rear of the room and the windy passage beyond.
“We must all go to Thebes for her funeral,” Khaemwaset said, glancing at the glaring square of hot light at the end of the corridor before she stood aside to let him enter her bedchamber. “Please come with us, Tbubui. In seventy days you will surely be living on my estate. I want my father to meet you, and a journey such as that would give you and Nubnofret a chance to become better acquainted. The investigative work Penbuy began at Koptos will have been completed and you will face Ramses as my wife. Because of the mourning period our contract cannot be ratified until after the funeral, but that can be done in Pi-Ramses. Will you come?”
He had crossed to the centre of the sparsely furnished room and was watching her as she closed the door and swung to face him. He noticed then that she was wearing a tight and transparent white linen sheath but no sandals or jewellery. He wondered if it was the same sheath she had been wearing the first time he had glimpsed her, and at the thought he was choked with sudden desire.
“But how will the work at Koptos be completed now that Penbuy is dead?” she asked anxiously. “Had he made much progress, Highness? Will our marriage be postponed because of it?” She ran to him lightly like a little girl. “Oh I am so selfish! I do not want to wait any longer than necessary to belong to you!”