gate guard might indeed be called a Door Opener of Heaven,” he commented wryly. “Surely no temple guard protected a more beautiful place. I’ve missed you, my son. It’s good to see you strong and happy and blessed by our King.”
“My turn, Hapu!” Huy’s mother, Itu, said, throwing her arms around Huy as Hapu good-humouredly retreated. “Oh, Huy! How wonderful this is! I’m so proud of you, so happy for you! Wait until I tell Ker and Heruben that you live in greater luxury than they do! They were hoping for an invitation to visit you with us.”
She pulled away and a glance of complete understanding passed between mother and son. Like Hapu, Huy’s uncle Ker and his aunt Heruben had turned their backs on Huy out of a superstitious fear, but unlike Hapu, Ker had never relented and had transferred his support from Huy to Heby, who now attended the temple school at Mennofer. They will never receive an invitation, Huy vowed silently as he regarded his nine-year-old brother, who was hopping from one bare foot to the other in impatience.
“You’re shooting up like a tare in a barley field, Heby,” he said. “What are you doing home from school?”
“It’s Mesore,” the boy replied promptly. “The school has closed in anticipation of the Inundation next month. I’ve been helping Father gather flower seeds from Uncle Ker’s fields, ready for sowing next year.”
“Oh, of course. I’d forgotten. I’m so old now that my schooldays are a dim memory,” he teased Heby. “And how are you, Hapzefa?”
The servant had her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. She smiled at Huy. “As well as ever, Master Huy. You’ve done well for yourself, haven’t you? I’m pleased.” She leaned forward for Huy’s kiss on her cheek. “Who’d have thought that the cheeky little boy I had to spank more than once would grow up to be a favourite of His Majesty! Does he visit you often, Huy? What is he like?”
Huy returned her smile. “He’s a handsome and very vigorous man, but I have only been in his presence once. He has not graced my home, Hapzefa, and for that I am grateful. Having to entertain the One would be a terrifying chore. Come inside, out of the sun, all of you. Merenra has wine waiting, and grape juice for you, Heby.”
They trooped after him, some of their hesitancy returning as their eyes travelled the cool expanse of the reception hall with its delicate inlaid cedar chairs, its black and white tiled floor, its little low tables surfaced in blue faience bordered in beaten gold leaf. “The walls are still naked,” Huy was forced to remark, hating himself for the weakness of his vanity but unable to prevent the words from slipping over his tongue. “Mayor Mery-neith had them whitewashed so that Ishat and I could have them decorated as we wished.”
“What will you put on them?” Itu asked Ishat as Merenra glided forward, two jugs in his hands.
Ishat shrugged. “We haven’t decided yet. Birds in palms and sycamores or entwining vines or fish in the river or scenes of feasting? I’d like something of all of it! Please take the cushions and our steward will serve you.”
They sank awkwardly onto the pillows, more used to sitting cross-legged on the reed mats Hapzefa wove, and Merenra approached Itu. Cups had already been placed on the individual tables.
“Mistress, would you like pomegranate or grape wine?” he asked. “The grape is of a good vintage and the pomegranate not too sweet.”
“Well, Ishat, have you been behaving yourself?” Hapzefa demanded as Itu chose her wine and the steward continued with his rounds, filling the cups and followed by one of Huy’s new servants, who tipped juice into Heby’s goblet.
Ishat let out a hoot of laughter. “Honestly, Mother, you still think of my arrangement with Huy as improper even though we’ve been living under the same roof together for years. Be at peace! I have my own bedchamber. I’ll show it to you shortly. I work as Huy’s
Learning to Kill: Stories