City of the Dead

merely the northern arm of the administration. It was a peaceful town, mainly concerned with trade and troop movements to and from the Delta.
    ‘So, what would you advise?’ Horemheb said finally.
    ‘Ankhsenpaamun could pose a threat to the nation. If a core of resistance built up round her and there were civil war, some of our forces would have to be diverted from the Delta, and the risk of a Hittite invasion would be increased.’ Kenamun chose his words carefully. Behind them was the simple message: kill the queen. But Kenamun knew that, as he progressed up the ladder of power, such brutal plain speaking had become increasingly abhorrent to the general. Indeed, his own old title was no longer pleasing to him, and he preferred these days to be known by the last of the many that he had prevailed upon Tutankhamun to bestow on him: Presider over the Two Lands, Great Lord of the People.
    ‘But if the threat is removed before the burial of the pharaoh, will that not look displeasing? The priesthood is restless - they are conservative and adapt slowly; but I haven’t the time to march at their pace.’
    ‘The king’s burial is still many weeks hence. The embalmers will need another forty days to prepare him, and that is the one part of the process that cannot be hurried. Nor would it be seemly to do so.’
    ‘Then we have an insoluble problem. For that time gives the queen an opportunity to organise.’
    ‘Alone she is powerless.’
    ‘But is she alone?’
    ‘We believe her to be,’ lied Kenamun, not wanting his own failure to infiltrate Ankhsenpaamun’s household adequately to reach Horemheb’s ears. The queen’s intelligence service was better than he dared admit to the general, perhaps because it was so small and tightly-knit. Half the information he fed Horemheb on was invented.
    ‘So there is no danger?’ persisted the general.
    ‘There is always danger in not making sure of a thing as soon as you can,’ replied Kenamun cautiously. ‘Especially if the stability of the Black Land is at stake. You rescued it after the fall of the Great Criminal. I do not want to see that work go for nothing.’
    ‘But we have sealed all the cracks in our security.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Whatever suspicions Horaha had have died with him.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Kenamun, more doubtfully. ‘I still think I should interview the daughter.’
    ‘She is not a danger,’ said Horemheb loftily. ‘What could she do? In any case we may safely leave her to Merinakhte. He is pleased with his reward for removing Horaha?’
    ‘He seems to be.’
    ‘Well, whether he is or not, he is our man now. He has bloodied his hands for us, and owes us house and career. Whether he can take the girl too — if he wants to — is his own affair. It does not affect us either way.’
    Kenamun spread his hands. ‘As you please. But what of Queen Ankhsenpaamun?’
    Horemheb frowned. ‘I will give her thought. But I do not see the urgency you seem to.’
    ‘Be advised - ’
    Horemheb looked at him. ‘I will seek advice when I need it,’ he said, and turned back to his papers dismissively. Kenamun withdrew, but as soon as he was alone, Horemheb found that he could concentrate no longer. The hieroglyphs danced on the page, making no sense, and for no reason a chill shook him.
    He kept seeing the queen’s face in his heart. Kenamun’s words stayed with him, and he was troubled.

NINE

    He had decided to visit her at the busiest time of day, when traders and servants were making their way to and from the pharaoh’s palace, crowding the compound, chatting and bickering in its courtyards. Dressed in a shabby kilt, his beard unshaved, dirt from the riverbank rubbed on to his face, Huy’s stocky figure disappeared in the mob of people. The difficulty was getting close to her, but the queen was expecting him, and once she had recognised him she had one of her body servants guide him through back corridors to a small room near the top of the building. There the man shaved Huy, applied make-up, and dressed his hair hastily, and gave him a clean tunic and kilt before leading him through the kitchens and then down through further corridors to another room, windowless and crammed with squat red columns, where he left him. No one who had seen the scruffy lighterman enter the palace would have associated him with the shaved and perfumed courtier who now stood waiting for Ankhsenpaamun.
    She did not keep him waiting long, and when she arrived it was in haste.