‘Who’s this?’
‘Nefertiti’s maid. The last person to see her, as far as I can discover. She reported her disappearance.’
‘Good. Let’s go.’
‘But we don’t have an appointment.’
‘Why do we need an appointment to speak to the Queen’s maid?’
‘Because it’s how things are done, it’s etiquette. She’s not just anyone. Her family-’
‘Look, Khety, in Thebes, I just turn up. I decide who I want to talk to, when, where and how. I go out into the streets, I talk to people who work, who have lives one can understand more or less at a glance; they talk before they’ve had a chance to work out their story properly. I know the way of things. I know how to find the people I need to find. I ask them questions. I get the answers.’
He looked worried. ‘May I speak?’
‘Only very quickly.’
Tjenry grinned. Khety ignored him.
‘The capital is a very formal kind of place. There is always hierarchy to respect; etiquette, procedure, propriety. Even the simplest request for an audience or a meeting can take days to administrate and negotiate. People are very…sensitive, and demand to have their status respected and acknowledged. It’s all very finely balanced, and if you get it wrong and upset people, it makes things very…difficult.’
I couldn’t believe this. ‘Khety, do you remember what we talked about last night? Do you realize how little time we have? We have ten-no, nine, as of now-days. At most. If we wait at these invisible doors, knocking politely and saying, “Please may we come in, please grant us a moment of your precious time, please may we acknowledge your high status, please may my assistant Khety kiss your honourable arse,” we’re never going to survive. And besides, we have authorities. From Akhenaten.’
I unrolled the papyrus, with its royal symbols-his two names written within the cartouches-and showed him.
Tjenry was impressed.
We walked out into the early morning and Khety showed me a ramshackle chariot that he had procured for the purpose of driving me from place to place.
‘Sorry, sir, this is all that’s available.’
‘So much for honour and status,’ I said.
We drove off, Tjenry following in another chariot that was in an even worse condition. There were still fine traces of night coolness in the air and in the freshness of the light. The twittering of thousands of birds, the already dazzling brightness of the buildings, the way the first light awoke among little things-in the blades of the grasses, in the leaves, in the running waters-helped restore my heart to the belief that perhaps after all I could solve this mystery and return to my family.
Khety drove us at speed away from the central city, along the wide Royal Road and then off on a spur which soon turned into a sinuous and beautiful pathway beside the river, beneath an avenue of mature palm trees.
‘Were these trees already here when the city was built?’ I asked.
‘No, sir. They came by barge, and were planted to the design.’
I shook my head in wonder at the strangeness of things in our time: fully grown trees planted in the desert.
‘And Senet-tell me about her.’
‘She is the Queen’s maid.’
‘More, please.’
‘She has the Queen’s trust.’
‘Is that rare?’
‘I do not know. I expect so.’
‘And this is the Queen’s private residence?’
‘Yes. She likes a less formal environment than the House of the King. She raises the children here. It is quite unusual.’
We drove on past vegetable gardens with their sparkling irrigation channels, and recently established orchards. The sun had now risen above the eastern cliffs and was immediately hot on our faces. The long shadows were banished. Thousands of nameless workers toiled at the black earth to produce food for the city, directing with their adzes the flow of water through the channels that ran alongside the fields. Thousands more builders and artisans laboured on the new constructions, their skin and hair permanently blanched with dust, the beat of the work drum as constant in their ears as a heartbeat.
Finally we arrived at the gate of the Queen’s Palace. To my surprise it was a house set behind a high mud-brick enclosure, though of unusual, extensive proportions; not a palace in the sense of colonnades and high walls decorated with hieroglyphs and statues, but a place of elegant, human scale and design. Long, low roofs were arranged at different levels, with open spaces between to allow for the circulation of air, the high entry of light and the continually evolving presence of shade.
I told Tjenry to wait outside. He was not pleased, so I explained: ‘I don’t want to overwhelm the girl with Medjay officers. She’ll be too frightened to speak.’ He shrugged, nodded, and found a place to lounge in the shade.
The entrance was guarded, but when Khety and I approached flourishing the authority they unbarred the way and we passed through into a courtyard floored with alabaster, and with narrow, shallow runnels of water spreading outwards from a central fountain where a pure nub of water pulsed endlessly. The way the light played off the water encouraged sensations of pleasure. For the first time since I arrived in the city I felt almost relaxed. I instantly responded by tensing up again: a seeker’s reflex. Nothing is more dangerous than relaxation.
We were led into the house by a girl dressed in white linen, like all the girls who appeared and then vanished as we made our way through a series of rooms and courtyards. Each room flowed into the next in a way that allowed for variety, juxtaposition, the interplay of inner and outer spaces, of brick and wood, light and shade, giving the highly unusual sense that the two worlds of the house and nature were happily co-existing. The long roofs were cantilevered to provide canopies above terraces, and I could not tell how such constructions were kept apparently floating in space. I noticed children’s toys, papyri and drawing materials scattered around, collections of beautiful objects on tables, and varieties of plants gathered together in shady corners.
We were bidden to wait in a room with two long benches. Then a young woman entered and introduced herself. I expect such girls to be no more than suitably average in their beauty, the better to offset whatever claims their mistresses have to such a thing themselves. But this girl was slim, elegant and sophisticated. She wore her hair under a headscarf. I liked her at once. She had a warmth and sincerity that I found I did not wish to mistrust. And her affection for her mistress was obvious. As was her nervousness during the interview.
I took out this journal as a way to make her understand that I wished to make a permanent record of her words. I find this action often has a usefully intimidating effect during interviews. She sat with her hands, in fine yellow gloves, folded in her lap, and waited.
‘You know why we are here?’
‘I do. And I wish to be helpful.’
‘Then you must tell me all the things that might seem important, but also all the things that might not.’
‘I will do my best.’
‘So, let us start. You reported the Queen missing?’
She nodded. ‘She was gone from her room when I went to dress her. The bed had not been slept in.’
‘Tell me about your relationship with the Queen.’
‘I am her maid-servant. My name is Senet. She chose me as a young girl to live with her. To help with her clothes, her dressing. To look after the children. To bring her the things she needed. To listen to her.’
‘So she talked to you? Of private matters?’
‘Sometimes. But my memory is poor.’
She glanced quickly at Khety, and I understood her. It would be wrong and dangerous for her to break the Queen’s confidence in his presence.
‘Let us think back to the days before her disappearance. Can you do that? Tell me everything.’