your jewels-of-office. You will, however, I trust, keep the office as it is. Menna and Harmose are here by the will of the old king, as well as the new, and their translations are vital in giving the throne the best advice. Your friends Khety and Hanufer are very skilled. I also remind you how valuable our friend Mentu is when he honours us with his presence. By the way, ask the king, when I am gone, what has become of this year’s tax returns. I believe that giving you the position will preserve all of you from royal attention. Will you accept, Bakhenmut?’
For a long moment, fear warred with ambition in Bakhenmut’s face. The battle was so naked that I wanted to look away. Then he dropped to the floor and kissed my feet, murmuring, ‘Lord, I am unworthy of this honour,’ which meant yes.
‘No more work is to be done today,’ I announced. ‘Go home, all of you. I thank you for your loyalty and your love,’ I added.
I did not know how much more I could stand, so it was good that they were mostly too afraid to approach their doomed master. Bakhenmut left at a run to carry to his wife the good news. The old men bowed and left. Mentu embraced me suddenly and hard, then left without looking back. Khety and Hanufer kissed my hands, murmuring long forgotten prayers which would have condemned them to death if they had been heard.
Then they were gone. The office was empty. I swallowed, thinking that my hearing was at fault, and realised that I was listening to utter silence. No noise of Meryt and her tribe, no babies crying, no sizzle of food cooking. No noise of rustling papyrus or thud of clay tablet into basket. No one left in the office of the Great Royal Scribe Ptah-hotep.
Except two people who would also have to be induced to leave.
The lady Mutnodjme and Kheperren the scribe stood close together, considering me as I was considering them.
‘I love you,’ I said to them. ‘I would not involve you in my ruin. I bid you depart.’
Neither of them moved a muscle.
‘Must I order you?’ I demanded. My control was slipping. I had a dreadful choice to make, such as no man in the Black Land had to make before, and they would not let me make it freely.
‘Order away, ’Hotep,’ said Kheperren. ‘Anubis obeyed, but he’s a dog. It won’t make the slightest difference to us. We aren’t leaving you. How could you think it?’
I knew I would not get anywhere with Kheperren, but I said despairingly to the lady, ‘Mutnodjme, you have only lain with me twice, both times in strange states of mind, you could easily say that I or the night had overpowered you and be free of me.’
‘So I could,’ she replied, unmoved, fists on hips like a peasant. ‘Do you think that I am likely to say that?’
‘You could,’ I encouraged. Her face shut in on itself like a box, concentrating into an expression of complete obstinacy.
‘I won’t,’ she assured me.
‘Now we’ve got that over with,’ Kheperren said easily, ‘Let us bar the doors, eat some of the food which Meryt has left for you, and we can talk about this. We cannot help you if you will not tell us anything, but if that is the case we are quite willing to drink your Tashery vintage and occupy your space. My lady Mutnodjme and I have nothing else to do today,’ he added, and the lady nodded emphatically.
Kheperren knew me very well. He knew that in such company I could not keep silent forever. Forever, in my case, extended until the next morning, when I would have to officiate at…
They sat me down and held a wine cup to my lips and made me drink, and I told them all about it.
Then we began having the argument that I dreaded. I knew that they would not let me face the choice I had to make.
‘It’s simple, Ptah-hotep, we just get you away,’ Kheperren urged for the one hundredth time. ‘You need make no choice except the soldier’s choice not to be there when the arrow lands. General Horemheb is leaving to take the Widow-Queen Tiye’s message to the Mittani soon. We can just go to the camp, hide there, and travel with him. I can teach you the ways of the army and we can be happy.’
‘That seems sensible,’ said Mutnodjme.
‘But what about your