A God Against the Gods by Allen Drury Read Free Book Online Page B

sacred scraps I left. I took satisfaction in fooling them, this morning: I was hungry and I ate it all. Then I returned, still accompanied by Aanen, to my private rooms. At the door I told him firmly, “Brother, I would be alone with my wife.” “But she is my sister,” he protested sharply, looking as angry as he dared. “You may see her later in the day, if she wishes to receive you,” I said evenly, and gave him a firm but pleasant stare, both of us knowing that she would be receiving no one but the absolutely necessary this day. “Well—” he began, still sharply; but even now he does not quite dare defy me openly, and so after a moment his eyes dropped, his voice trailed off in a mumble: “Well …” “Go, Brother,” I said. “Make yourself ready to attend me to Karnak, for I go there to worship for her and our new son. I shall be departing in the fourth quarter of morning. Be ready.” And then finally he did say, “Yes, Son of the Sun, I go as you desire.” But it did not come easy to him, and I thought again as I have thought many times in the last two years: he is grown too great.
    And I thought further, as I have also thought: They have all grown too great.
    Struck by this knowledge, which haunts me too often nowadays, I paused where I was with my hand on the edge of the door. I watched his back, its lines indignant, as he hurried off down the long corridor, pretending to himself that his departure was his own idea, that he really had other business and had to leave me of his own accord. At the distant turning in the hall he met Amonhotep the Scribe, Son of Hapu, and with him the new young scribe, Kaires, whom I have glimpsed a couple of times, always in the distance: he has not attended me yet, though I understand Amonhotep is training him with great care and has assigned him principally to my mother. She likes him; he is a bright lad apparently: I must keep an eye on him and promote him to higher service if he deserves it. I need “King’s men,” loyal to me above and beyond the fear-loyalty that is given the God.
    As I watched, Amonhotep the Scribe returned Aanen’s hasty and almost contemptuous greeting with a grave air, followed by a grim little line of amusement around his lips which Aanen, hurrying away, did not see. Then Amonhotep saw me and paused, so abruptly that young Kaires, tumbling along behind like an eager puppy, bumped into him. They laughed together—I could see from Amonhotep’s lack of annoyance that he too already thinks well of this youth who has been added to the household staff at his father’s request—and then, abruptly grave and suitably respectful, they bowed low to me. I bowed also, and then smiled. Emboldened by this, Amonhotep smiled back. So too did Kaires, which for just a moment produced a somewhat shocked expression on Amonhotep’s shrewd and amiable face. But the boy meant no harm, so again I smiled. Amonhotep relaxed, they bowed again and withdrew; but not, I am afraid, before they both perceived the unhappy expression that recaptured my face as I sighed and turned back toward the door. I did not mean for my unhappiness to return so rapidly and so openly, but against my will, it did. I must be more deeply concerned than I admit to myself.
    Must be?
    Of course I am.
    Within the private apartments all was hushed and quiet. Doctors, nurses and the inevitable priests of Amon stood huddled about, attempting with their earnest expressions and low-murmured talk to convince me of a depth of knowledge which is limited by spells, incantations, and foul-smelling poultices on the one hand, and by the hoped-for kindly interventions of Bes, the guardian of childbirth, and Hathor the cow goddess, deity of motherhood, on the other. There is no reason to believe that Bes and Hathor will not attend Tiye kindly today, as they did with both Sitamon and Tuthmose. Both births went smoothly, Sitamon being delivered in three hours, Tuthmose a little more slowly, but with no