His skin was in contact with my skin the length of my body, and his free hand cupped my breast. I was so aroused that I would have opened to him if he had made any advance at all, but he did not and I reflected that it was not fitting that I should turn a political ruse to my own pleasure.
‘It was the fate of Khons which settled my mind,’ he said unexpectedly, so that I jumped. I had not seen Teacher Khons since I had gone to the temple of Isis and he had been appointed tutor to the royal children. The last I had heard of him he was attached to my sister’s household as teacher to her daughters.
‘What happened to Teacher Khons?’ I asked in a whisper.
‘You remember Khons, the questioner? The Lord Akhnaten came in one morning when he was instructing the little princesses in the names of the states of Egypt—each Nome had its god, and he was saying something like, ‘Nome of Hermopolis, symbol the frog, god Khnum the potter,’—you probably learned the lists the same way, lady.’
‘Yes, I did.’ I could hear Khons’ deep voice saying them and Merope and I repeating the list. I had a sudden flash of lying on the cool floor on a reed mat with my sister beside me, Basht the striped-one sitting with her front paws on Merope’s pre-pubescent breast, and the prospect of honey-cake if we recited the Nomes without fault.
‘The King said, “There is no god but the Aten” and Khons argued with him. No, he didn’t even argue, poor Khons; he just said “In the old days, Lord, each Nome had its god and it is still easier to remember them thus.” And the King flew into a rage, screamed that Khons was perverting the minds of the divine princesses. Instead of pacifying him, Khons continued. He told the King that Egypt’s history was made under the old gods, and they were worthy to be studied regardless of the advent of the Aten. So the King gave an order and the guard—you notice that he always has a guard?—speared Khons as he sat on the floor with the children; and he died.
‘I was summoned by the King to see what fate came to a scribe who questioned the primacy of the Aten. Khons was dead by then, lying on the tiles with a spear through his neck and blood spilled around him; and in the middle one terrified little girl and a scatter of building blocks and toys. You know how the mind fixes on one small thing which exemplifies the scene forever after. To me, the picture of Khons’ death is a pull-along painted clay horse in a pool of bright red blood.’
‘By all the gods, ’Hotep, is he mad?’ I asked, horrified by the picture I too could see now of Khons lying dead on the tiled floor, blood pooling around the little princess and her toys.
‘Oh yes,’ he whispered into my shoulder. ‘He is quite mad.’
Ptah-hotep
Lady Mutnodjme was a surprise. I had not seen her for years. When she had left for the temple of Isis, she had been a small dark child with bright eyes, her breasts not yet budded, weeping a little at the loss of her sister Merope—though the Great Royal Wife visited the temple at least every week, or so Pannefer told the King. But as well as her sorrow at leaving her home I sensed in her measureless appetite for learning, matching even my old friend Snefru.
And when I saw her again at the palace gates, contemplating the guard—and I am sure that I got to her just in time to prevent an incident, for she never lacked courage—she was still small, no taller than Kheperren, but a woman in truth, tending to plumpness (which is very unfashionable but very attractive) and clever-handed, deft, and still with that quickness of thought which had made her remarkable as a child. She had brought me Kheperren’s last message, sent through Ammemmes, and she had melted into my embrace when I kissed her, sighting the Pharaoh’s soldier’s boots under the door and knowing that we had to conceal the reason for our meeting.
She had handled the interview with the lord Akhnaten with promptitude and confidence, and I was very impressed with her.
My wife Hathor, called Hunero, had been a pleasant maiden, only interested in the doings of the other women in the office, Khety’s wife and Hanufer’s concubine.