Nick Drake - Tutankhamun - The Book of Shadows

The consequences and ramifications of all this multiplied in our minds. Ankhesenamun spoke again:

‘The King is right. He must be seen to be King, and to do the things kings must do. This is most necessary, and must be done. But we must request one important thing. This is my personal request…’

She looked directly at me.

‘Will you, Rahotep, accompany the King? You and Simut will be jointly responsible for his safety.’

How had I ended up, after all, holding the shortest of straws? How had I got myself so far into this situation that there was no choice but to go forward? I thought back to Ankhesenamun’s first plea, her appeal based on need and fear. I decided not to think yet about the recriminations, the consequences of all of this, at home.

I bowed my head. Simut glanced at me, and then nodded in agreement.

‘We will need a well-trained and completely trustworthy team. But let us take a small one, without extravagance or unnecessary ostentation: a cook, trackers, servants, and a select handful of guards. They must all have been vetted for security by the offices of the palace, as well as by the treasury. By which I mean Ay himself,’ I said.

‘That is a sensible suggestion,’ said Ankhesenamun, ‘for then we implicate the Regent in the arrangements, rather than excluding him; for in his exclusion he is more dangerous.’

Khay realized he had no choice but to agree.

‘I will make all the necessary security arrangements for the visit to Memphis with Simut,’ he said.

‘Excellent,’ said Tutankhamun. He clapped his hands together. And I realized that for the first time he actually looked happy.

The house seemed deserted when I arrived home. I realized how rare it was for me to find myself inside in the daytime. I felt like a stranger, as men do sometimes in their own households. I called out a greeting, but only Thoth responded to the sound of my voice, and came to me, his tail raised.

I found Tanefert watering the plants on the roof. I stood quietly at the top of the stairs, under the portico, for a little while, just watching her as she moved among the pots, self-possessed, self-absorbed. She has a few strands of silver in her midnight hair, which she refuses, rightly, to dye or to pluck out. We have been together for so many years; their number is greater than those of my life before I met her. I realize how lucky I have been. My life before seems a faint dream of another world; and the life since then a new story, with our girls, now almost young women, and the late surprise of my son.

She put down the watering can and stretched her back; her many bracelets glittered as they sifted and tinkled down her soft skin. I thought for a moment they were like the years we have been together, because I had given her one every year, on our marriage anniversary.

Then she realized I was standing there. She smiled questioningly at the strangeness of my appearing here at this hour. I moved over to her. We stood together, side by side, my arm around her shoulder, looking out at the view of the city, in silence. It was late afternoon, the sun had moved across the Great River, and now hung above the western bank. From here we could see all the roofs of our quarter crammed with washing hung out in the heat, and the vegetables drying on racks, and bits of discarded or reused furniture, and birdcages.

‘Your plants are flourishing,’ I offered, tentatively, to break the silence.

‘All they need is water and sun, and a little bit of attention…’

She gave me one of her meaningful looks, but said nothing more. She had read my face instantly, as she always does. She was not going to let me off lightly. She waited, playing with a brown, curling leaf.

I wondered how best to broach the subject.

‘I have to go away for a few days.’

She continued to gaze out at the horizon, enjoying the fresh, light breeze from the north. She shook her fine black hair loose, and it hung about her face for a moment before she smoothed it back again into a glossy knot.

I gently turned her towards me, and held her. But she was tense within my embrace.

‘Don’t try to make it all right. I’m afraid.’

I held her closer, and she relaxed a little.

‘Nothing in the world means more to me than you and the children. Khety has orders to watch over you all, and to help you if you need anything.’

She nodded.

‘How long will you be gone?’

‘Perhaps ten days…no more than fifteen at most.’

‘That’s what you said last time. And you promised not to do it again.’

‘I’m sorry. Believe me, I have no choice.’

She gave me one of her darkest looks.

‘There is always a choice.’

‘No, you are wrong. I don’t feel I have any choices. I feel trapped by circumstances always beyond my control. And every step I take, in any direction, only takes me deeper and deeper into the trap.’

‘And I fear the knock upon the door. I fear opening it to find some grim Medjay messenger standing there, with a formal expression on his face, preparing himself to give the bad news,’ she replied.

‘It won’t happen. I can take care of myself.’

‘You can’t ever know that for certain. This world is too dangerous. And I know you never feel so alive as when you are at the heart of danger.’

I could say nothing.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Hunting.’

She laughed, despite herself.

‘I’m serious. I’m accompanying the King to the hunting grounds, north of Memphis.’

Her face darkened again.

‘Why?’

I took her down the stairs, and we sat in the shady quiet of our small courtyard. Thoth watched us from his corner. The sounds of the world-the street-sellers, children shouting, their mothers shouting back-came to us distantly. I told her everything.

‘Ankhesenamun…’

‘Yes?’

‘Do you trust her?’

I hesitated, and she saw it.

‘Be careful,’ she said. And she was about to say more when the street door banged open, and I heard Thuyu and Nedjmet coming up the passageway, arguing about something of intense importance. Nedjmet threw herself heavily upon the dozing Thoth, who has learned to tolerate her clumsy embraces. Thuyu embraced us both, and balanced herself against my knees, while she ate a piece of fruit. I admired her sleek grace, and her shining hair.

Tanefert went to fetch them water. My middle daughter quickly told me what was on her mind.

‘I’m not sure I will get married.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I can write and think, and I can look after myself.’

‘But that doesn’t mean you won’t meet someone who you can love…’

‘But why would you choose to love just one person when there are so many people?’

I stroked her hair.

‘Because love is a decision, my darling.’

She mulled this over.

‘Everyone says they can’t help themselves.’

‘That’s falling in love. True love itself is different.’

She wrinkled her face up doubtfully.

‘Why is it different?’

At this point, Tanefert returned with the jug of water, and she poured out four cups, waiting for my answer.

‘Falling in love is romantic and wonderful, and it’s a very special time. That’s when it feels like nothing else matters. But living in love, year after year, in true partnership, that’s the real gift.’

Thuyu looked at both of us, raised her eyes to the heavens, and said: ‘That just sounds so old .’ And she laughed and drank her water.

Then the maid brought Amenmose out into the cooling air of the early evening, awake after his afternoon sleep. He held his arms out, dozily and grumpily, to be picked up; I swung him up on my shoulders so he could rattle the cages of the birds with his little stick. Soon he had them in an uproar of indignant song. I took him down then, and fed him some honey cake and water. Sekhmet returned, too, and joined us, taking her baby brother on her knee, and amusing him.