Out of the Black Land - By Kerry Greenwood Page 0,26

Nubian, as I am, and we are faithful to death.’

Meryt stood with her dark hand on the hound’s black head. Both pairs of eyes were regarding me almost dispassionately, but with such steadfastness that my own eyes burned and I had to look away. What had I done to deserve such loyalty? I was only a scribe, son of a scribe, no great warrior or captain.

Meryt continued, ‘Once he knows that you are his Lord, he will allow no thief or murderer close. He will not bay and arouse the palace, but come and wake you. And at a pinch, Master, he will defend you with his life. That’s why I wanted you to fast. He needs to identify your scent, not mixed with onions or wine.’

She led the hound forward and pushed his muzzle into the gap between my arm and my side. I felt the cold nose tickle, and the dog took two deep snuffling breaths, recording my scent. Then he pulled away from Meryt’s grasp and lay down, putting his head between my two hands. In that position he was helpless and at my mercy. It was an act of formal obeisance as graceful as any courtier, as graceful as the other Nubian in my service.

‘Anubis, I accept your fealty,’ I said gravely, deeply touched.

Meryt nodded and went to fetch our breakfast. Anubis accepted the two scribes, sniffing them as they came in, carrying bundles of possessions and their working tools.

‘Lord, it’s a wolf!’ exclaimed Khety.

‘It’s a dog,’ Hanufer reproved him. This was typical of their relationship. Hanufer had no imagination at all. Khety had too much. Together, I hoped, my office would be balanced.

We laid out the work for the day and the two scribes sat down to become familiar with the extent of the Great Royal Scribe’s responsibility. It did not look so unmanageable with someone else to read the endless reports and tell me what was happening. We were in the middle of the Hare Nome’s report on the repairs to the canals when there was a disturbance in the outer office and I went out.

‘Call him off!’ gasped a tall young man wearing an expensive, food-spotted cloth and a wig which had evidently not been cleaned since last night’s feast. The perfume cone which had dripped scented oil was matted into it and he stank of wine. Anubis had backed him against the wall and the oil from his headdress was marking my lotus frieze.

‘Anubis, release him and come here,’ I said quietly, wondering if the hound would obey me.

Meryt had spoken truly, as was her habit. Anubis left the cowering young man and came to me, sitting down composedly at my side.

‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Mentu; you called for me,’ blurred the man, straightening the wig and wiping more oil over my delicately painted wall.

‘Come away from there,’ I ordered. ‘Anubis will not hurt you, unless I so order him. Meryt, some wine, if you please. Sit down,’ I told my second.

‘What a remarkable hound,’ said Mentu, sitting down as ordered and discarding the wig. He dropped it to the floor where it lay like a dead rabbit. ‘Where did you get him, Lord?’

‘He comes from Nubia,’ I evaded the question, because I did not know from whom Meryt had bought him. ‘From the Mountains of the Moon. Mentu, I am minded to appoint you as my Second Scribe. Will you accept the appointment?’

Now that I was close to him, I could see that he was not so young. Hard drinking and some hard exercise—chariot racing, perhaps?—had put harsh lines into his face and crow’s feet around his eyes. Though presenting a picture of dissipation, he was examining me with eyes which were quite bright and present.

‘It would please my father, and he holds the key to the treasure-chest,’ said Mentu consideringly. ‘What would you wish me to do?’

‘You can do as you like,’ I said. ‘You can attend here and help in the management of the kingdom, or you can race horses and drink every night.’

‘I see,’ Mentu accepted a cup of Tashery vintage—the amphora was already open—and sipped. His eyebrows rose.

‘I see your plan,’ he commented. ‘I would be the last person anyone would want as Great Royal Scribe.’ This was a rather alarming insight, but I said nothing. ‘In fact, the scheme may work to both of our advantages, Lord Ptah-hotep. I wish to feast and enjoy myself, you wish to run the kingdom. Or maybe it is true that