“Hori!” she said. “I heard about the terrible fight you had with Father. What was it for? He told Mother tonight that he had banned you from all family gatherings, including the feasts. What on earth have you done?”
“You are not going to like it,” he warned. “Can we go into the bedroom?”
For answer she waved Bakmut to the stool by the door and led Hori further in, clambering onto the couch. Hori found himself perching beside her as he often used to in earlier, happier times.
He began to speak, beginning with Ptah-Seankh’s confession and ending with his decision to go to Koptos himself. Sheritra listened, her face becoming more and more sombre. When he recounted his visit to the concubines’ house, omitting nothing, she gasped and fumbled for his hand but remained silent until he had finished. Then she shook her head.
“If anyone else were telling me these things I would not believe it,” she said. “None of it makes any sense, though. If she married Father for his titles and his wealth, why is she risking discovery by seducing and taunting you? And Father is absolutely insanely in love with her and always has been. He would have married her even if she had been the most famous whore in Memphis. Why all the secrecy? Why did she not tell him the truth from the start?”
“What truth?” Hori said wearily. “I have a feeling that she is exactly what she says, a noblewoman with a good lineage. But she is hiding something and it must be very bad. I will find out what it is. I want you to tell Father where I have gone and why, so that he and Mother will not worry about me, but do not do it until I have been gone a whole week.”
She agreed. “Does Harmin know what his mother is really like?” she wondered aloud. “Oh Hori, I want my betrothal now, before you come home from Koptos with bad news for us all!”
Hori took both her hands and shook them gently. “Listen to me,” he said urgently. “You must not press for a betrothal until I get back. Please, for your own sake, Sheritra, stop plaguing Father for just a little time. Who knows what I may uncover about all of them?”
Sheritra pulled her fingers away. “I want Harmin,” she insisted angrily. “I have waited and waited. I deserve him. Besides,” and here she managed a wan smile, “I had better marry him while Father still lives and my dowry is intact.” Then all at once she began to cry. She folded forward and he took her in his arms. “Oh Hori!” she sobbed. “He could never have done this to us if he loved us. It hurts!”
“I know it hurts, Little Sun,” he said in a low voice, “but it is not true that he doesn’t love us. Tbubui has bewitched him, but once he cared more for us than for anything else in the world. She is destroying him and we must save him. Come. Do not cry. I need you to be brave for me. I have written to Grandfather about it and perhaps he will intervene. In any case, you must be here waiting for me when I return, for I shall come straight to your quarters. Pray for me while I am gone.”
She hugged him, kissing his throat and his mouth.
“I wish I could do more than pray for you, Hori!” she blurted. “This is all so terrible.”
“Look for a letter from Grandfather,” he reminded her, gently disengaging himself. “And try to speak up for me to Father. Do not let Tbubui poison him further against me.”
“May the soles of your feet be firm,” she whispered, giving him a formal farewell. He smiled at her with a confidence he was far from feeling, then allowed Bakmut to escort him to the door and see him out. He returned to his own couch and fell onto it with a grunt of relief.
Antef woke him an hour after dawn. “I presumed that you would forget to leave word with your body servant,” he explained, grinning, as Hori swung his legs off the couch, and Hori smiled back.
“I always do, don’t I?” he replied, all at once grateful that Antef was faithful and had stood by him despite the neglect of many months. “Thank you, my friend.”
“Everything is ready,” Antef told him, withdrawing. “Your own barge is packed and I suppose I must be your cook, steward and body servant until we return.”
“And my scribe,” Hon added. “Leave me, Antef. I will be at the watersteps directly.”
His body servant was now awake and was waiting to bathe him. Hori padded after the man and as he went, still sleepy and very thirsty, the enormity of what he was doing struck him for the first time, together with a premonition that slowed his step and made him look about at his belovedly familiar surroundings with a spurt of affection and homesickness. Life has been good, he told himself sadly, and with that thought came the memory of Nefertkhay, pert and vital, water streaming from her young body. I wish I had made love to her, he told himself regretfully. It would have been the one wholesome saving act to take with me on this perilous journey. “Highness?” his servant said politely, and Hori came to himself and stepped up onto the bathing slab. I must not look behind me, he said firmly to himself. There is no point in that at all.