Ancient Evenings (81 page)

I ignored most of that. I would pass by the Great Chamber and not enter. I stayed at the side of Nefertiri even more than before, and She wanted me near. Since we did not know what I would have done if Usermare had died, we certainly did not know what we would do now that He was alive. A day did not pass but She would bring forth the mirror, and we would look at one another, and study the Ka of the other’s face, and many of Her Fourteen I came to know, at least by a little. A cloud could not touch the edge of the sun, nor a breeze enter the pillars of the patio, before Her Ka would leave and another of the Fourteen enter the mirror. Sometimes, She would speak to me in this manner only, our eyes connected by the mirror, particularly on those mornings when it was known through every mansion of the Palace that He had gone to visit Rama-Nefru. Nefertiri would even say, “He will not come to Me until I beg His pardon for the soup spilled on His chest, but I won’t. He had My servant flogged until the poor man died.” She nodded with all the weight of a numb heart. “The daughter of this dead butler,” said Nefertiri, “is blind, and used to have the finest voice in my Chorus of the Blind. Since her father was killed she has not been able to imitate the sound of one bird.” Nefertiri looked at me. “It is the fault of the woman with the dyed hair.”

That was how She spoke of Rama-Nefru. So great was Her detestation of Rama-Nefru that She used the word for bleach,
sesher
, that is also our word for dung. She wove
sesher
in and out of what She said until the beautiful hair of Rama-Nefru came to sound like intestines left white, emptied out, bleached out—I did not like the cruelty of this Ka in Nefertiri’s face, for, once begun, it never wished to leave the mirror. “The Hittite hates Usermare,” said my Queen. “He suffers miseries He cannot know—He is too strong to know His own misery. Why, He would not have fallen so heavily from the Golden Belly if His senses were not stupefied. That is what comes from making stupid love to that Hittite with the bleached hair.”

Finally, She said to me, “I wish Her hair would fall out. There is no gift I would not offer then.”

How much power those few words gave to me! I revered Her, I fear, like a Goddess. I did not believe, try as I would, that I would remain firm should She ever choose me. I might be the Son of Amon, but there were greater Sons. She repeated, however, “There is no gift I would not offer,” and Her eyes spoke so clearly to the seeds and snakes of my groin that for the first time I wanted Her with the spirit of the swamp. The God Set came awake in me. I desired Her between Her thighs there in the Ka-of-Isis.

Nefertiri now said, “You must pay a visit to Honey-Ball.”

I did not tell Her how difficult that would be. I bowed instead and left Her chamber, and then bowed again, for Amen-khep-shu-ef was approaching. Now, we did not look into each other’s eyes. We would never look into them again unless our swords pointed at one another. But He was here to say goodbye to His Mother, so I learned, for we actually spoke (each of us looking at the other’s mouth as if it were a fort to take by siege) that He would go with His barges down the river today, off to fight one of His little wars in Libya, another town to besiege—such were Usermare’s orders. I wished Him well with the best of my manners, and thought it was a good omen He would be gone.

After His departure, I wandered by the Gates of Morning and Evening at the Gardens of the Secluded, and told one of the two eunuchs standing guard to send for Pepti. Soon we spoke through a narrow opening in the wall by the side of the gates.

“There is peace with me,” I told him. “I hope there is peace with you.”

“There is peace with me.”

He could not go on. He began to laugh, which for him was much the same as to cry. Many eunuchs, I had noticed, did not seem to know the difference between laughing and crying—their lives were so different from ours. “In truth,” he said, “there is a disturbance in the House of the Secluded,” and went on to tell me of quarrels between the little queens, and rudeness among the eunuchs. Certain houses looked slovenly. The night that Usermare had spent with Honey-Ball left confusion in many. He sighed. “I think it is the rising of the river.”

“I have come to tell you of a greater disturbance. Households are going to be moved, and Great Queens will sleep in new beds.”

He cried at the magnitude of such change, that is, tears were in his eyes, but I did not know if he was laughing. “There won’t be such a disturbance soon,” he said. I looked into his eyes which were large and swollen forth as if someone were squeezing his throat. “The One,” he said, “loves the pale gold of the sun. When He is with Her, He holds the sun in His hand.”

“That is how it used to be. But since His fall, He has been weary of the Hittite.”

Pepti shrugged. “He told Ma-Khrut to give Him magic to make the Hittite love Him more.”

“Ma-Khrut tells you more than she would tell me.”

“I am a eunuch.”

I nodded. “You are also wise. I have said to Queen Nefertiri that you are the wisest man I know. She said, ‘We need such a man as our Vizier!’ ”

He was pleased, but did not believe me. He was too wise for that. “You were not there to hear the warmth of the Queen’s voice when She spoke of you,” I said. “Do you know how She hates the man who now is Vizier?”

“I have heard.” He might indeed be wise, but also he wanted to believe me. “Does the One,” he asked, “ever listen to Nefertiri?”

“Soon He will.”

Pepti looked at me as though I were a fool.

“No,” I said, “you are mistaken. Others come and leave. Sooner or later, He always goes back to Her. And when He does, She never forgets those who were loyal. Be loyal to Her now, and She will get you the highest rewards.”

He looked glum. “Even if it is all as you say, the One would never accept a eunuch for His Vizier.”

“No,” I told him, “you are wrong. The only men trusted by Sesusi are eunuchs.” I said it bitterly as if, but for that, I could be a Vizier myself. “Sesusi does not trust men,” I said, “only eunuchs.”

Now Pepti did believe me. It was the cruelty of my remark. Cruelty he could always trust.

“You,” he said, and he was crying now, “would like me to become a Vizier. Then you could command the Court through me.”

“That would not be true,” I said. “I would never make such an attempt.”

He smiled as if my lies were absurd. Yet, he believed me more. I knew his calculation. If he were Vizier, I would discover that there was more to his will than the sword he no longer kept between his legs. “My friend,” I said, “let the day come when you are a Vizier. Then we shall see if I speak through you, or you through me.”

“I do not feel close to the Queen Nefertiri.”

“Still, if you help Her now, She will never forget.”

“How would She hear that I was the one who helped Her?”

“She has asked me to speak to Honey-Ball. She knows that cannot be done unless you are Her friend.”

“If I am discovered, they will cut off my hands.”

No, the task was easy, I told him. He could send one of the two eunuchs here at the gate off to the market. The other could be given work in the house of a little queen, and Pepti could occupy his place. Then, Honey-Ball might come through the Gardens and stop by this small opening in the wall. Round as she was, no one could see her there, not for all the foliage of the bushes.

He was cautious. Even in the present disorder of the Gardens—“and there was a beer-house last night noisier than any I remember,” said Pepti—he still did not believe that Honey-Ball could walk the length of the path from her house to this wall and attract no attention. Honey-Ball did not walk for too little. All the same, he would have a conversation with her. If I returned this evening, he would be at our little opening in the wall.

No Vizier could have dismissed me with more dispatch. That night, when we met again, he told me that Honey-Ball was ready to be of service to Queen Nefertiri, but wished in turn that her own dignity be honored by a special invitation from the Queen to her and her family for the Festival of Festivals.

Nefertiri was displeased. Of course, She could do it, but She paced back and forth. The calm of Her bearing was gone. I saw another Ka of Her Fourteen.

“I am ready to reward Honey-Ball,” She said. “It is understood she will be rewarded. But I cannot bear her family. I was entertained by them on my last visit to Sais, and they are common. Very wealthy and common. They have a papyrus factory, and make contracts with every Temple of Amon in their nome. Most respectable in their airs. But the great-grandmother of Ma-Khrut was a prostitute. So it is said. So I believe. You can see it in the way they eat. That family wipes their fingers too carefully. They are quick to speak of their ancestry while the wine is passed. They go back twenty generations. They assure you of that. They have the audacity—oh, they are truly common—to present the names of their forebears as if one were speaking of people of substance. They went on in that manner to Me! I came near to telling them that as a matter of family, I could mention Hat-shep-sut and Thutmose. But no, we did not talk of anyone but their forebears. Twenty generations of harlots and thieves! These are people of the swamp. No,” She said, “I really do not want them seated in My circle. Nor do I know, for that matter, whether I care to have Honey-Ball near Me. She has an excellent education, and knows as much about perfume as I do—I would not say that for any other woman—but I detest her for growing so fat. It is an absolute abuse of Maat. I like Honey-Ball, we knew each other as children, I adore her voice. If she were blind, I would treat her like a Goddess for the joy of listening to her sing, but I also tell you this: I consider her a hippopotamus and a slut. She has noble blood, but of the lowest sort. Her family does business with shit-collectors.”

I felt so bold as to answer, “It was only to protect her toe.”

“The one Usermare cut off?” When I said yes, Nefertiri laughed with much agitation. “Sesusi never told Me all of
that
. He does not tell a story well.” She sighed. “You believe that I should invite her?”

“It is better to have Ma-Khrut for a friend than an enemy.”

“It is even better to have Me for a friend.” She sat down at last. “Come here. Look into the mirror.” Her eyes were merry. “I like Ma-Khrut. When Sesusi and I were younger, Ma-Khrut was the only little queen of whom I was jealous. Tell me, Kazama, was I right to be jealous?”

“I would not know, Good and Great Goddess. It is forbidden to go near a little queen.”

“Everybody knows of you and Ma-Khrut. Even her sister knows. That is how I found out. Her sister writes to Me. You see, I am really very friendly with her family. It is just that they are common.”

“Does the Good and Great God know?”

“I would think He does.”

“He is not angry?”

“Why should He be? He has had you by the asshole, has He not?” Now I saw Her fury. I had dared to bring this request from Honey-Ball. But no, I concluded, Usermare could not have heard of my affair in the Gardens. Nefertiri was merely punishing me. I was beginning to understand how profound was Her displeasure that I did not produce the magic of Ma-Khrut without a payment in return. She looked at me in the mirror. I saw no love whatever. “Tell Honey-Ball that I will keep a seat for her, two for her parents, and one for her sister. No more.” Her eyes turned away from the mirror and looked at me directly. I could have been a servant. “Sleep well,” She said. I did not.

THIRTEEN

I saw Pepti next morning in the Wide Palace. He was on the other side of the throne in a file of Officials waiting to address the King. So I could do no more than meet the question in his eye with a nod of my head, and had to wait until evening to meet him at the Khebit Kheper which was the grand title given by little queens to the hole in the wall where Pepti and I spoke to each other. How ironic was this Hole of the Beetle, this Hole of Becoming. For nothing became of it. At best, a few whispers between a charioteer and a little queen.

By the aid of a stick, Pepti pushed out to me a packet from Honey-Ball wrapped in linen and smelling of incense. It was longer and narrower than her well-wrapped toe, but its emanations spoke to me of nothing I knew.

On my return the Guard of the Vizier was waiting outside Her Throne Room, and within was the Vizier speaking to Nefertiri. The visit had put Her in a most gracious manner. It was his first appearance at Her Palace in many a month, so She mocked him slightly on presenting me, saying, “Kazama is My Vizier,” of which he took full notice. He was a man to observe the changing fortunes of others like a river pilot stays keen to the wind, and he bowed to me with a look that spoke of future conversations between us. Then he left, whereupon She said, “That man does not make many mistakes. I hope the same may be said of you.” She took my little wrapping. Within, was a piece of papyrus and a tress of blond hair. She held this last with a look of no pleasure on Her face. “It is as coarse as the tail of a bull,” She said, and began to read from the papyrus. “Well,” She said, “it
is
hair from the tail of a bull,” and looked a little further. “Black hair,” She read from the papyrus, “blessed by words-of-power, then dyed. As black hair turns blond, so does blond hair fall away.” Now, She gave a cry of much displeasure. “Look,” She said, pointing to a dark, congested little stream on the papyrus, “this is not wax but a dead worm! She tells Me to mix this with my own pomade and to sleep with it. Sleep with this worm in My hair, and the tail of the bull under My bed. No,” She said as She continued to read, “under My headrest itself. I am ill.”