dissipated a little. I refilled his cup.
'No-one ever just disappears,' I continued, 'as if they had stepped out of their sandals and up into thin air. There are always clues. Human beings cannot help but leave traces. We will find and read these traces. We will track her footsteps in the dust of this world, and discover her and bring her safely home. We have no choice.'
We bade farewell at the crossroads where the Royal Road met the way back to my office. Khety saluted, then stepped towards the Medjay headquarters, no doubt to report everything to Mahu with the confident fluency of the inexperienced drinker. But perhaps I was too harsh. He had been candid with me, more than was strictly required. I could not trust him, nevertheless I liked him well enough. And he would be a useful guide to this strange world.
10
I woke early like a condemned man to the naivety of birdsong. I could not believe I was still here, and that I had committed myself and my family to this madness. I wanted Tanefert lying next to me. I wanted to hear the girls talking to each other next door, in their room. But the room was an empty box. Would that I could turn back the river that carried me here.
Khety and Tjenry arrived together. Tjenry carried breakfast, a jug of beer and a basket of bread rolls which he put down in front of me. Khety looked pleased with himself. He carefully placed a papyrus document on my desk. On it was written a girl's name: Senet.
'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
'No-one ever just disappears,' I continued, 'as if they had stepped out of their sandals and up into thin air. There are always clues. Human beings cannot help but leave traces. We will find and read these traces. We will track her footsteps in the dust of this world, and discover her and bring her safely home. We have no choice.'
We bade farewell at the crossroads where the Royal Road met the way back to my office. Khety saluted, then stepped towards the Medjay headquarters, no doubt to report everything to Mahu with the confident fluency of the inexperienced drinker. But perhaps I was too harsh. He had been candid with me, more than was strictly required. I could not trust him, nevertheless I liked him well enough. And he would be a useful guide to this strange world.
10
I woke early like a condemned man to the naivety of birdsong. I could not believe I was still here, and that I had committed myself and my family to this madness. I wanted Tanefert lying next to me. I wanted to hear the girls talking to each other next door, in their room. But the room was an empty box. Would that I could turn back the river that carried me here.
Khety and Tjenry arrived together. Tjenry carried breakfast, a jug of beer and a basket of bread rolls which he put down in front of me. Khety looked pleased with himself. He carefully placed a papyrus document on my desk. On it was written a girl's name: Senet.
'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
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