City of the Dead

Perhaps by it he hoped to win the favour of the pharaoh’s Ka. It was certainly true that the richest among the funeral gifts had been donated by him. If Horemheb and Ay were engaged in a race for the throne, then Ay had the stronger claim; but his power was less. Caught in the middle would be the queen.
    The more Huy thought about her, the more her situation worried him. If she were not adequately protected, she could be plucked out of history leaving no trace behind. Her aunt was unlikely to intercede for her, and although Ay was her grandfather, the family tie was too remote to weigh in the balance against his ambition. He was her potential ally, but that was cold comfort, for if Ay gained the throne he would not be likely to show mercy to the parent of the rightful heir.
    The first day at the palace Huy kept his head down, watching. He had arrived to find that he was attached to no particular house priest, but the bustle and activity was such that no one noticed or cared. One guard was suspicious when he saw Huy hanging about in an inner courtyard for longer than seemed necessary, but he was immediately reassured by the badge of office the former scribe showed him. The guard was a young man, and Huy wondered drily whether it was not just the badge, but the fact that it was worn by a thickset thirty-five-year-old with the muscles of a riverman. It was not the first time that he’d had to thank his unprepossessing but tough appearance, that went with neither his profession nor his nature.
    The palace itself was an intricate warren of rooms and interconnected buildings, and the day was well advanced before Huy was able to find his way to the quarters occupied by the huntsmen. In his search for them he had noticed a heavy guard on the audience chamber, where the king’s body still lay, packed in fresh dampened linen which was replaced hourly, awaiting the moment - soon — when it would be taken through the palace to the open-ended, narrow building that housed the royal embalmers. Here the process of preparing the king for eternity would begin, leaving a wrapped and dried husk asleep in three layers of gilded cedarwood seventy days later.
    The huntsmen’s quarters were near the stables by the river on the western side of the palace, some distance from the royal buildings. There was a great cedar shed to house the animals, and beyond it a corral for the horses. Six of them moved about restlessly as he passed it. Seven low dwellings formed a rough protective crescent behind the corral, the central one of which was larger than the others. Accompanied by two of the palace guards, four men were loading a shrouded body on to a long, narrow ox-cart which stood next to the house at the northern end of the crescent. As Huy watched, they lowered it gently on to the floor of the cart and covered it with palm boughs. Then one of the men looked at the oxen, who began plodding towards a road which led away to the north-east, the direction from which Huy had come.
    He was hot and footsore, for he had lost his way twice in getting here. There were two other men in sight, both stableboys by the look of them. One approached him, looking curious. Huy displayed his badge of office.
    ‘I’m looking for Nehesy,’ he said.
    ‘Who wants him?’
    ‘I do. I’ve come from the palace. It’s about the king’s dogs,’ said Huy.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘They will be needed for the procession.’
    ‘That won’t be for two months.’
    ‘You don’t understand,’ replied Huy loftily. ‘Everything has to be taken into account well in advance, not scrabbled together at the last moment. And who do you think you’re talking to anyway, you oaf?’
    ‘Nehesy’s in the animal house,’ said the man, his hand straying to scratch a carbuncle on the back of his neck.
    ‘Fetch him,’ said Huy, hoping he was not overdoing his act. The man started grudgingly on his errand. ‘Wait.’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Who have they just taken away?’
    ‘Isn’t that in your book, Mr Organiser? That was Sherybin.’
    ‘What was the guard for?’ Huy thought back to the guard outside the audience chamber. That was less remarkable; but even so it was unusual to place a guard on a corpse.
    ‘You tell me.’
    ‘Going to the embalmers?’
    The man nodded. ‘High time. He’s been in there four days.’
    ‘Preparations had to be made.’
    ‘I don’t doubt that.’ The man stood still, looking at Huy, scratching his collection of boils.
    ‘What are you waiting for?