City of the Dead

Or was the humiliation so great that he had kept it to himself?
    In the interval between his interview with Ankhsenpaamun and his meeting with Ay, Huy’s heart, knowing that the last grains of sand were running through the clock with their usual and yet always unexpected rush, had constructed a plan which might cover all risks. It was a dirty plan, but it was no longer possible to fight in any other way and survive in the Black Land that was being created by this power struggle. Huy knew that the man to save the country was Horemheb; but the man to save the queen was still Ay, if he could be convinced that she was no threat to him. The way to achieve that was to ensure the throne for the old man. If, later, destiny decreed that Horemheb should succeed him, then destiny would be helped greatly by nature, for Ay was old and without a direct heir. Horemheb, too, was not the kind of man to be cast down by frustration and defeat; rather, they would make him roar the louder. For himself, he hoped for nothing more than to be far away from the city, soon, and, despite all the warnings and reservations that rose in his heart, with Senseneb.
    ‘Very well, if you wish it,’ he told Ay after a pause.
    ‘Good.’ Ay leant forward.
    ‘Before I begin, there are conditions.’
    Ay pushed himself back off the table and paced to and fro three or four times. After controlling himself, he turned again to Huy.
    ‘Conditions?’ he asked. His tone was low, but his voice was strained.
    ‘Yes.’ Huy was also struggling to keep his voice soft, and diplomatically neutral. He did not want to betray the strain he was putting his own courage under. He wished that there were another way out, but he could see none.
    ‘What are they?’
    Huy was still aware of Ineny at his back. His mouth was dry.
    ‘I want you to guarantee the safety of Queen Ankhsenpaamun.’
    Ay involuntarily spread his hands, almost surprised, is that all?’
    ‘No, but it is important.’
    ‘I will assure her of my personal protection, without reservation.’ Ay looked at him, and Huy could tell from his eyes that he knew he was not believed.
    ‘You will also have to drop all thoughts of marrying her.’
    Ay reddened. ‘What?’
    ‘I cannot take your word alone as sufficient guarantee of her safety.’
    ‘How dare —?’
    ‘Let us be realistic. I need to be able to take her away from here, to a place of safety, where she will not be molested by you or by Horemheb. I need your help to get her away. In return, I can give you enough damaging information concerning Horemheb’s activities to ensure that, once he knows you have it, he will not contest your claim to the Golden Chair.’
    ‘No information is that good.’
    ‘This is. The general would never hold the priesthood or the army together if it became open knowledge. No pharaoh yet has held power who has shown himself to be more of a man than a god, and Horemheb is not heaven-born.’ The last remark went home to Ay, himself a commoner, as it was intended to.
    ‘I will be generous,’ said Ay graciously, after a short pause for form’s sake. ‘Now, tell me what you know.’
    Behind him, Huy heard a faint rustling and the scrape of a chair. Ineny had brought out a scribe’s palette and a scroll.
    ‘There is something else first,’ he said. ‘The queen is concerned about Nebkheprure Tutankhamun’s journey to the west.’
    Ay spread his hands again. ‘He will be given a burial worthy of a great pharaoh. I am in charge of the arrangements myself.’
    ‘Good.’ Huy thought of the poor funeral furniture he had seen and wondered if Ay would better it. It seemed unlikely, but there was no time to bargain details. ‘Then there is another entombment.’
    Ay looked at him: ‘Whose?’
    ‘The doctor, Horaha’s.’
    ‘His position guarantees him one.’
    ‘There may be no one to watch over him. He must be given a formal burial in full accordance with his rank, and all his names must be written down over the lintel and in the chapel. This must not be left to his successor.’
    ‘You have my word,’ snapped Ay impatiently. ‘But of what importance is Horaha now?’
    ‘You will hear.’
    Ay sat down. Behind him, the sun streamed over the city and the swelling river, making a silhouette out of the old man. He sat still as rock while Huy spoke, his head lowered on to his hands. The silence was broken only by the soft swish of Ineny’s brush as he wrote. Huy told him of the king’s death, of his