Thus the pulse of Khaemwaset’s life had become more erratic, but not unpleasantly so. He had begun to think that all would be well, when one day Tbubui laid aside the fly whisk with which she had been lashing herself, in a vain effort to disperse the clouds of hovering pests, and turned to him solemnly. They were reclining side by side on a mat and a scattering of cushions in the shade of the line of trees bordering the north garden. The addition was finished, the debris gone, and gardeners were labouring to dig flower beds against the smooth white walls of the new suite. The rooms inside still stood empty, but a host of craftsmen and artists was due to arrive the next day to hear Tbubui’s wishes for her permanent residence. Khaemwaset had told her to order whatever she desired, confident in the knowledge that the simple good taste she had shown in furnishing her old home would be evident here also. She had warned him with laughing coquetry that simple did not mean inexpensive, but he had shrugged good-naturedly and waved away her hesitation. Now he put down the half-demolished bunch of black grapes he had been feeding her and prepared to have yet another discussion of her plans. “Do not tell me!” he smiled. “I recognize that expression, dear sister. You want acacia wood for your couch instead of cedar.”
She briefly caressed his bare thigh. “No, Khaemwaset, this has nothing to do with my quarters. I have been unwilling to bring up the subject. It is hard for me to admit that I am unable to solve it by myself, but I am mystified and a little hurt …” Her voice trailed away and she dropped her gaze. Immediately he was concerned.
“Tell me,” he urged. “I would do anything for you, Tbubui, you know that! Are you not happy?”
“Of course I am happy!” she answered swiftly. “I am the most fortunate, the most loved woman in Egypt. It is my servants, Highness.”
He frowned, puzzled. “Your servants? Are they lazy? Rude? I cannot believe that any servants trained by Nubnofret could be either!”
She was obviously casting about for the right words, her full lips parted, eyes restless. “Their training is excellent,” she began with a delightful hesitancy, “but they seem noisy and talkative to me. Indeed, they often want to talk back. My cosmetician natters on while she paints my face. My body servants make comments on the gowns I choose, the jewellery I order removed from the boxes. My steward asks me what I would like to eat or drink.”
Khaemwaset’s bewilderment deepened. “Beloved, are you saying that they are impolite?”
She flapped her gold-ringed fingers impatiently. “No, no! But I am used to servants who do not speak at all, who do what they are told and nothing more. I miss my own staff, Khaemwaset.”
“Then ask Nubnofret if you may dismiss her servants and send for those you want,” Khaemwaset urged. “This is a trifling matter, Tbubui, not worth discussing.”
She bit her lip; her hands had fallen, bunched, into her white lap. “I have already approached Nubnofret,” she said in a low voice. “The Princess refused my request without an explanation. She merely pointed out that the household servants are the most efficient in the country and perhaps I was not handling them correctly. I am sorry, Khaemwaset. I know I should not be worrying you with something that properly belongs to Nubnofret and myself to solve. I do not want to offend her by appealing to your final authority or by simply taking the initiative in this matter, but I feel I have a right to surround myself with my own people if I choose.”
“Of course you do.” Khaemwaset was astounded by Nubnofret’s refusal. In spite of her feeling towards Tbubui, such pettiness was not in her nature, and he too was mystified. “I will speak to her about it today.”
Tbubui put out an appealing hand. “Oh no, my love. Please! The route to peace in this household cannot be through the thorns of disloyalty. Nubnofret must not be made to feel that her authority can be undermined whenever I wish. I have more respect for her than that. Just tell me how to broach the subject to her again.”
“You are wise, tactful and kind,” Khaemwaset said, “but I think that you must leave this to me. I know her. I can inquire into her motives without letting her guess that you have made a complaint to me. I apologize on her behalf, Tbubui.”
“There is no need, Highness,” she protested. “And thank you.”
The conversation turned into other channels before petering out under the onslaught of a rapidly increasing heat. Tbubui’s head gradually nodded until she fell asleep, limbs sprawled amid the cushions, hair disordered in the grass. Khaemwaset sat for a long time and watched her. Her mouth was slightly parted. Her dark lashes quivered on her brown cheeks. There was something so waxen, so death-like about her immobility that a stab of fear went through him, but then a tiny rivulet of sweat inched between her loosely covered breasts and he leaned down and tongued it away. What bliss, he thought, to be able at last to freely make that gesture. I would do anything for you, my heart, anything at all, and the fact that you hesitate to make a request of me makes me want to please you even more. Carefully, so that he did not wake her, he eased down until his face was on a level with hers. Closing his eyes he inhaled her perfume and her breath, the myrrh and that other scent, indescribable yet tantalizing, and as his imagination began to drift he told himself that he was the most fortunate man in Egypt.