Scroll of Saqqara(8)
“Did you have good fortune today, Khaemwaset?”
He shook his head, knowing that she asked out of politeness, not interest. She regarded his hobby as a demeaning pastime for a blood prince. Not at all,” he replied, touching the place where she had kissed him and finding it damp with the freshly applied henna. “The tomb was ancient but damaged both by water and the depredations of robbers. It was impossible to tell how long ago both disasters occurred. Penbuy examined a couple of scrolls and has doubtless filed them in the library by now, but my store of knowledge remains the same.”
“I am sorry,” she replied with genuine regret, her gaze dropping to the scrolls under Khaemwaset’s hand. “Is there a message from the Delta? Trouble in marital paradise?” They grinned at each other. “Perhaps we should move to Pi-Ramses until Pharaoh’s plans are consummated. You have almost worn out our barge with your to-ing and fro-ing.”
Khaemwaset was suddenly full of tenderness for her. He had not missed the faintly discernible note of longing in her voice. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” he said gently. “Why don’t you take Hori and Sheritra north for a month or two? My father does not need my attendance all the time, Nubnofret. The affairs of Egypt are at the moment purely routine, apart from the marriage negotiations, and I am free to continue a few of the projects I have begun at Saqqara.” He indicated his chair and she sank into it and began to pick over the remains of the food. He recognized the expression of stubbornness on her face. “My architects and I are working on new plans for the burial ground of the Apis bulls,” he went on, “and I have two restorations in progress, one on Osiris Sahura’s pyramid and the other at the sun temple of Neuser-Ra. I …”
She held up a hand containing a piece of now cold goose, waved it at him and popped it into her mouth. “I have long since ceased to feel affronted by your insistence on putting dead stones before your living family,” she said coolly. “If you will not go to Pi-Ramses, then we will stay here with you. You know you would be very lonely if we left you to the care of servants.”
It was true. Khaemwaset moved to perch on the edge of his desk. He folded his arms. “Then have the servants pack a few things, and come with me tomorrow. Father needs another diplomat to undo the trouble he has undoubtedly caused. He will also undoubtedly ask me to examine and prescribe for him, and anyone else he fancies might need my services. Besides, I would like to visit Mother.”
Nubnofret chewed thoughtfully. “Very well,” she said at last. “Hori will want to come too, but Sheritra will not wish to mingle at court. What are we going to do about her, Khaemwaset?”
“She is just shy,” he answered her. She will grow out of it. We must give her time and treat her gently.”
“Gently,” Nubnofret snorted. “She is already indulged too much, by Hori as well as by you. Even now she waits to say goodnight to you but I have told her she must not count on your coming tonight.” She licked her fingers then snapped them. Wernuro immediately came to life, glided to the desk, dipped the linen that had covered the food into the finger bowl, and began to carefully mop her mistress’s greasy hand.
“Why not?”
“Because a message has come from Pharaoh’s harem here. One of the concubines is sick and requests your attention.” She left the chair and approached the door. “Goodnight, my husband.”
“Goodnight, Nubnofret. Sleep well.” At a sharp word from her the door swung open, the door slave bowed her out with Wernuro three paces behind her, and Khaemwaset was alone.
Unwillingly he left the office and walked through into his library. Coming up to a large chest he reached to his belt, extracted a key and unlocked it. A pleasant smell of dried herbs wafted into the room as he lifted the lid. He carried a small box back into the office and called for Kasa and Penbuy. “Ramose,” he reminded the Chief Herald who had appeared at his summons, “send my apologies to Amek if he has retired to his barracks, but I need two bodyguards immediately. I must go into the city.”
An hour later he was being bowed deferentially into Pharaoh’s Memphis harem. It was large but well appointed, with airy suites of rooms for the many women Ramses had taken a fancy to and had acquired, and had as often forgotten. They lived for the most part indolent lives, waited on hand and foot and with nothing to do but gossip, quarrel, care for their superb bodies and compare notes on their distant master, but a few of them conducted their own businesses in Memphis and the outlying farmland. They were allowed outside the harem if properly escorted and could administer their own estates or small industries. Some oversaw the weaving of flax into linen, some owned vineyards or farms and a few carried on a flourishing trade in foreign exotica by caravan and sea.