Out of the Black Land - By Kerry Greenwood Page 0,132

long as he did not slay my soul.

The King withdrew his gaze from the pyre and said, ‘The Phoenix must die so that she may be renewed.’

I did not speak but nodded, dumbly. I slid down into my kneeling position again, the better to implore him for my life when he pronounced his sentence. Huy was beside him, Pannefer on the other side, and they both knew what was coming. They were smug with satisfaction at my downfall and would doubtless dance round my funeral pyre. They knew that he was taking my afterlife as well as my present life. A feeble flicker of hatred and pride kept me conscious, but that was all it could do.

‘You have the honour,’ said the King, beaming down on me, ‘of lighting the fire for the Queen Phoenix Nefertiti, in which she will achieve translation.’

I almost collapsed with relief. He was not going to burn me on that fire of precious woods. He was going to burn the Queen. At that moment the idea seemed to be an excellent one. At least the sacrifice was not Ptah-hotep.

‘Of course, if you refuse, you will take her place,’ said Huy.

The soldiers drew me to my feet. I had to give an answer to the king, who was as pleased as if he were conferring a province on a deserving servant. If I refused I would die and all of me would be destroyed. But I did not assent or refuse. The temple swam before my eyes, the gold tarnished to dark green and then dark red like old blood. I fainted.

I woke in my own bed. For a delirious moment I wondered if I had dreamed the whole scene in the temple. But Mutnodjme and Kheperren were both holding me. I could feel their fear and concern. It was all true and I had to secure what I could before my choice could be made. I sat up.

‘Bring Meryt,’ I ordered, and she came to me, my dear Meryt who had loved me and protected me for many years. She was in tears and I kissed her and she hugged me. Her brothers crowded around the bed on which I lay.

‘Go,’ I ordered. ‘Go now. Do not stop for rest or tears. Before night you should be on the river and on the way home. I cannot thank you, Meryt, for all you have done, not properly. If you want to honour me, Nubian, live well. Prosper. All the blessings I have I load upon your head.’

Meryt kissed my feet and Kheperren motioned to his two soldiers, not Nubians but Klashr, members of the general’s own honour guard. The procession formed with Meryt at the head and her whole household walking behind, small children crying and Teti, Hani and Tani looking back to see the last of Ptah-hotep, who had done at least two good deeds for them. I had taken them out of slavery, and now I was sending them away.

I watched them as they marched out of my life, Meryt with Anubis by her side. He had already bitten Hani, and I had to order him to go. He was a good dog, so he obeyed and his obedience snagged my heart. But they had gone. One group settled and safe, for I did not think that even the King would dare to outface General Horemheb, especially not on so unimportant an issue as a few Nubian ex-slaves.

I rose and walked into the outer office. All faces turned to me. I had no need to ask for silence. Menna and Harmose laid down their clay tablets and looked at me. Bakhenmut was terrified, patently anticipating his wife’s reaction to his probable dismissal if my office came down with me. Khety looked shocked, Hanufer worried. Only Mentu was unconcerned. He even attempted to comfort me.

‘Easy got, easy lost,’ he quoted; always his philosophy. ‘Do not be troubled, Ptah-hotep. You can always join the army. That’s where I am going. Horemheb always needs skilled charioteers.’

So, my office did not know the terms of the demon’s choice which the King had thrust upon me. I was glad. If I could manage it, no one would know. I said, ‘There is no need to be concerned. There is no reason for the King to change this office in the slightest. He just wants me.

‘So. tomorrow Bakhenmut, I will appoint you Great Royal Scribe, before I am summoned to the king again. Come to me at dawn for