“M-master…” she began.
“When you approach the throne, do so with reverence,” Montuhotep commanded, cutting her off. “Keep your head bowed and eyes downcast. Do not speak unless spoken to. And if you are addressed, keep your responses brief. The king is in a delicate condition, and you must not upset him in any way.” He stopped abruptly, and Neff nearly ran face-first into the scornful leopard head. “I will be listening very closely, so I strongly suggestyou watch your words.”
Neff swallowed. They walked on, exiting the temple complex and following the wide tree-lined Royal Road to the palace. Guards patrolled the area, swatting away beggars and malcontents, each of them armed with a khopesh and wearing an Eye of Horus collar. They passed the temple bakeries and storehouses, the stables where the pharaoh’s personal and military horses were kept, and another complex of government buildings in the distance. It wasn’t anywhere near as crowded as the Thonis city streets she’d seen from the boat, but it was busy nonetheless. Officials clothed in white robes and fine black wigs argued vigorously under the shade of palm trees, while bare-chested young scribes dashed from place to place carrying bundles of papyri. Soon, they were welcomed through the palace gates and entered the sumptuous courtyard, then the main columned hall, before being led to the throne room. A fine-boned attendant with kind eyes and delicate hands met them at the portal.
“The king awaits you,” he said, waving her inside with practiced elegance. Montuhotep moved to follow, but the attendant put up a hand. “Pharaoh appreciates you accompanying the girl here, Master Montuhotep, but he prefers to speak to her alone. You may return to your duties. I will ensure she is conveyed back to your care the moment her audience with the king is concluded.”
A red flush appeared on Montuhotep’s cheeks. “Of course,” he said with a curt bow. “I serve at the pleasure of the king.” With one last warning look at Neff, he turned on his heel and was gone.
“Don’t worry,” the attendant said softly, guiding her lightly with a hand on her back. “The king has a soft spot for young girls. You have nothing to fear.”
Neff nodded, though his reassurance made her considerably more anxious, not less.
Compared to the vast colonnade hall, the throne room felt intimate, with only six columns lining the central aisle. The columns were painted in vivid shades of red, sky blue, and gold, their capitals carved into blooming lotus. Sunlight filtered in through high diamond-patterned windows, illuminating paintings that covered every wall from floor to ceiling. She saw armies of painted men, their faces pointed toward the throne, and above them, a parade of animal-headed gods all seated on thrones of their own. At the end of the aisle, a ramp led up to a platform inlaid with rich blue tile, flanked by two tall flaming braziers. There, under an ornate canopy, the king slouched in a low-backed golden chair, staring into a bowl of soup while being fanned by a two lanky male servants in loincloths.
“Pardon me, my king,” the attendant said.
The king looked up and straightened when he saw who it was.
“As requested, may I present Nefermaat of Bubas,” the attendant announced, dipping nimbly into a low bow.
Neff bowed too, trying to match the man’s elegance.
“Yes, yes, thank you, Ineni—you may go,” he said, and turned to the servants. “You too. Go on. Out!”
The three men left soundlessly. Neff and the king were alone.
“Come closer, young lady,” he said. “Come, come.” He spoke in an odd, uneven manner, repeating himself and gesticulating jerkily with his hands.
What’s wrong with him?she wondered, and then remembered the conversation between the Heka priests. Whatever had infected the king’s body must be affecting his mind too.
Squeezing her trembling hands into fists, Neff approached the throne, keeping her eyes on the floor as her master had instructed.
“Am I really so terrible that you won’t even look upon me?”
Neff was suddenly seized with panic.I’ve only been here a moment, and already I’ve bungled it!“N-no, my king, not at all,”she stammered, unsure what to do. She glanced up at him without lifting her head, and saw he was smiling. Instinctively, she smiled back, though she worried it was more like a grimace.
She had always wondered what a pharaoh might look like. He was, after all, a god on earth. Would he shine with an inner light? Would he be as regal as the statues made in his likeness?
The reality was nothing like that.
Looking at King Amunmose, she was reminded of the small beeswax figurines her father sometimes made for his customers. He’d carve them in the shape of an enemy of their choosing, then instruct them to take the figurine in hand, abuse it to their liking, and toss it into a fire. By doing so, the idea was that their enemy would suffer terribly, just like the figurine. Neff had watched him demonstrate the ritual a few times, watched the little wax faces grow soft in the flames, slowly melting away to nothing.
The king’s face looked just like that. As if it had been molded to resemble life, but was all too rapidly falling apart. He seemed to be disappearing into his rich robes, his jewel-encrusted gold cuffs hanging loosely from his bony wrists.
“Come, come,” the king repeated impatiently, coaxing her closer. “Don’t be shy.”
Working to maintain her smile, Neff took a few obedient steps up the ramp onto the low platform, until she was close enough to catch a whiff of the king’s heavy perfume. It was sweet, but did not cloak the sick, sour smell wafting from his body. Her stomach twisted in disgust, and she stopped.
“That’s better,” the king said, settling back into his seat. “Your reputation precedes you, my girl—despite Montuhotep’s attempt to keep you his little secret.” He wagged a finger. “That was very naughty of him! But… it’s very hard to keep a secret from me for long. Very hard!”
He coughed, a wet, bone-shaking sound. “I heard you were agift from the high priestess of Bubas, and that you have the makings of a very talented seer.” He paused, his yellow-tinged eyes studying her closely.
“I hope so, my king,” Neff replied.
The king nodded and fussed with the bowl of green soup on a small table by his side. “Do you see this, Nefermaat? Here I am, the pharaoh, and what do they feed me? This…sludge.Boiled mallow leaves. They say it settles the stomach, but I feel queasy just looking at it.”
The savory soup was likely the only pleasant smelling thing in the room.
