City of the Dead

taking you. The papyrus will be delivered at Soleb, but the captain has orders to take you on to Napata.’
    ‘Can he be trusted?’
    ‘The boatowner can. She is loyal to the queen. As for the captain, there is gold for him to collect in Napata - for his personal use.’
    Senseneb smiled sadly. ‘The last thing I shall ever want again when this is over is adventure.’
    Huy was silent, then looked at her seriously. ‘There is something else.’
    ‘Yes?’ The gravity of his voice scared her.
    ‘If, when you get to Napata, for any reason you do not feel safe, you must take the queen with you and travel on to Meroe. No one from the Southern Capital would follow you that far, and there are people in the far south who are still loyal to the line of Akhenaten. They will protect his daughter.’
    Sensenseb’s head swam. She did not want to go to Meroe. All her big city instincts rose up against it. At least Napata was still recognisably a Black Land town, belonging to the southern part of the empire. Meroe was at its farthest limits. It was further from the Southern Capital than the Great Green was to the north. Privately she made up her mind that the danger would have to be very great to make her retreat so far, and she doubted if Ankhsenpaamun would be eager to go either; but she said nothing. Her heart told her that she was embarking on an adventure so mad that she would regret it for the rest of her life.
    ‘When do we leave?’ she asked, knowing that it was too late to back out now.
    ‘Dawn.’
    ‘So soon?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘But what about us?’
    ‘There is no time. Princess Setepenra’s body will be taken to the royal palace today. The queen will remain there until tonight, when she will board the boat at the southern quay. You must return to your house, tell Hapu, pack what you need, and as soon as it is dark, come back to me here. Today you must behave as if it were any ordinary day.’
    ‘When shall I come tonight?’
    ‘As soon as it is safe.’
    She looked at him. ‘But if I am not leaving until dawn, how will we pass the time?’
    ‘Sealing the knot,’ said Huy, and kissed her.

    As the sun passed from his matet to his seqtet boat, Senseneb’s apprehension gave place to excitement. She had packed a leather satchel with Hapu’s help, and found that she needed very little, though she wondered how much the queen would be taking, and decided then that a little more than what she needed would do.
    Her Ka went on ahead of her, and she began to wonder what the house in Napata would be like. She had not seen it since childhood, and she thought about the couple who had always been its caretakers. She had sent a letter to warn them of her arrival with a friend. They would not recognise the queen. How would they react when they saw her, Senseneb, grown up? What questions about her life would they ask? Would she dare tell them that her husband would be joining them later — or would that be a hopeful lie to tempt the anger of the gods? She came to realise that her only regret was that Huy was not leaving with her. Leaving the Southern Capital, she came to realise, was not a matter of regret at all.
    She had just given orders to Hapu about the disposal of her father’s little menagerie, which she was certainly not leaving to the mercy of Merinakhte, when the doctor himself arrived. Her heart beat so fast that her chest hurt, her stomach felt hollow and her head flew; but since he appeared to notice nothing she assumed that she had herself under control.
    Merinakhte had dressed up. He had rubbed ochre into his cheeks, and lined his eyes with kohl. He wore a pleated over-kilt in a lattice pattern, knotted at the side, with a fringed sash and a decorated apron which fell below the knee. His tunic had open, pleated sleeves.
    ‘Where are you going?’ she asked.
    He smiled ruefully. ‘I am glad you’ve noticed that I made an effort. I’m not going anywhere. I have come to apologise. What I said to you was cruel. I beg your forgiveness and ask you to accept this gift.’
    She looked at his grey eyes carefully, but they were without expression. She noticed with alarm that he was looking round the room into which Hapu had led him. Would he see signs of her departure?
    ‘I would have come sooner but your gate has always been locked. Have you been away?’
    ‘No — just busy.’
    ‘Here.’ He held out a glass jar, worked in a blue-and-white pattern of interwoven ribbons. Its base and top were chased