He woke late the following morning in Si-Montu’s guest room with little memory of the night before. The servant his brother sent to see to his bathing and dressing and to bring him food told him that a message had gone to his wife during dinner and his own men had been cared for.
Khaemwaset sought out Ben-Anath, thanked her for her hospitality, gathered his staff, and cast off for home. Si-Montu was already out in the vineyards. I cannot remember the last time I drank so freely, Khaemwaset thought as he sat leaning against the outer wall of the barge’s cabin, but the wine Si-Montu produced was indeed fine. I have no headache, only a feeling of lightness and a slight loss of balance.
But then he did remember. He had drunk too much, though not nearly as much as he had at his father’s feast in the palace when the old man with the scroll had accosted him. That was a curious affair. His thoughts ran on as the oars of his rowers dipped and pulled against the current, lifting dribbles of glittering river water into the bright sunlight. I lost the scroll. A pity. I feel guilty about such carelessness. Well, the matter is over, closed. I must not drink to excess again.
All the time he was thinking his eyes were on the bank, and they remained there until the river road veered sharply west and the nobles’ estates began. But today no flutter of scarlet linen increased his heartbeat and Amek stood stolidly in his customary position at the prow. Khaemwaset did not know whether he longed to see her or was afraid that she might indeed magically appear and cause him once again to lose all civilized volition. But his watersteps hove into view, one of Amek’s guards on duty by the mooring pole, and Khaemwaset had been spared another encounter.
Disembarking, he went immediately to find his wife. Nubnofret was in her quarters dictating a letter to one of her friends at court. She looked up and smiled as Khaemwaset was admitted.
“Was it good to get drunk, dear brother?” she asked. “You look well rested.”
“Yes it was,” Khaemwaset admitted, acknowledging the inclined head of Nubnofret’s scribe with a nod. “I did not intend to stay away, Nubnofret. I apologize if I have inconvenienced the household.”
“You have not.” She rose and came to him, running a sharp but gentle nail down his cheek and kissing him on his naked chest. Her mouth was soft, and Khaemwaset sensed no reproach in her attitude or in her warm gaze. By now the story of his astonishing loss of control in striking Amek would be spreading among the servants, who loved to gossip, but to Nubnofret’s credit did not dare carry family business to the staff of other households. He wondered for the first time whether Nubnofret permitted Wernuro to whisper such gossip to her, and was conscious of despair. I cannot expect my exploits to remain a secret from the rest of the family, he thought while he smiled back at his wife. Oh how wearing, how mind-consuming is deceit!
“Nothing of note has come from the Delta, or so Penbuy tells me,” Nubnofret was saying “and there were no unexpected guests. Please don’t forget, though, that May will be staying here within the week on his way back from the Assuan quarries. Excuse me now, Khaemwaset. I must finish my dictation. I have a lot to do today.” Her lustrous black eyes told him that she would hurry through her chores and be at his disposal as soon as possible. He had in fact forgotten about his father’s Chief Architect, and his heart sank. At one time he would have welcomed such a distinguished and cultivated guest, but now he wanted them all, his father, his brothers, his governmental contacts, to disappear so that he could be alone and concentrate on … He turned abruptly. “Let me know when you are free,” he replied. “We might take a swim later.”
Escaping to his office, he saw that Hori had placed yesterday’s work in a neat pile on the desk. Khaemwaset went to it briskly. Enough nonsense, he thought. The sooner I study these the sooner the tomb can be closed. I have wasted too much time and effort that should have been directed towards the work of my own architects. But before he sat he summoned Ib. “Revive the search parties,” he ordered. “I don’t care what it takes, but I want that woman.”
6
Come, songs and music are before thee.
Set behind thee all thy cares;
think only upon gladness until the day cometh whereon
thou shalt go down
to the land that loveth silence.
THE MONTH OF HATHOR slid away and Khoiak began. May proved to be an entertaining guest, as usual, and left gifts for them all before gliding away in his gilded, flower-bedecked barge. Khaemwaset cast the horoscopes for the new month and found no changes from the month before. This time, however, he was oddly detached from the task and viewed the outcome with something close to indifference. What would be would be. Egyptians were on the whole a cheerful and optimistic people, he knew, but they did not disregard the power of destiny’s fingers sometimes astir in their lives, and Khaemwaset, as time went on, felt himself more and more in the grip of fate’s implacable hand. There was almost a perverse comfort in the awareness. He saw his patients and performed his other duties, receiving the continually negative reports of Ib and Amek with equanimity. Tomorrow, next month, next year, it did not matter. He knew she would come and he waited for her.