so … Huy stirred as the words he had remembered mere days before came drifting back into his mind, together with the same thought his perspicacious father had just voiced.
“I cannot imagine what task the King might set me that I could not perform,” he answered huskily.
Hapu rapped the desk. “The higher they are, the farther they can fall,” he retorted, “and you are already very high in this land. There are few who do not know your name, Great Seer!” He straightened and placed both brown forearms on the table. “You are really no better off than I. I depend on Ker for my livelihood. If I am injured and cannot work his flower fields, I fall. You depend on Amunhotep. If you antagonize him, you and Ishat also would find yourselves back in some hovel in the slums of the town.”
“Well, what do you expect me to do?” Huy’s rising anxiety was making him irritable. He felt as though this man his father, with his dusty greying hair, his sun-scarred skin, his splayed, rough hands, was intruding on a matter that he could not possibly understand. Yet Huy’s intellect knew the truth: he was vulnerable, and Hapu had put his finger on his weakness with a stark accuracy.
Hapu drained his cup and, half rising, reached for the jug and refilled it. “It’s simple,” he said, regaining his seat. “Take some of the King’s gold and invest it. Buy good arable land as it becomes available and have it cropped. I can help you there—I know the state of every farm between Hut-herib and Mennofer. Get that steward of yours to study the trade routes in and out of Egypt, what’s being moved, what’s profitable. Buy into a caravan, or, better still, equip one yourself. Take advantage of your good fortune while it lasts, Huy! Don’t let it make you lazy and indolent! Have you considered the oases? The rich keep summer homes by the lakes, and a lot of the arouras around them are owned by the temples, but the soil is incredibly fertile if you can get your hands on any of it.”
Huy stared at him. None of his father’s suggestions had occurred to him, but they all made sense. “His Majesty would know,” he objected.
Hapu shrugged. “He would probably applaud your wisdom, and besides, the less gold he has to send you, the more stays in the Royal Treasury. Talk to Ishat. She’s a sensible young woman, for all her frivolous fussing over baubles. You should marry her, Huy. It’s obvious that you love her. What are you waiting for? She’s always adored you. And for Amun’s sake, get your hair cut! You look like an aristocratic courtesan.”
So Mother decided to keep her counsel regarding my enforced impotence, Huy thought. She didn’t even tell her husband.
He forced a laugh and rose. “I’m so glad you came today. I think this visit has brought us closer, Father, cleared away the cloud between us. Will you forgive me the grudge I have held against you for so long?”
Hapu also got up and, coming around the desk, pressed Huy to his chest. “If you can forgive me my cowardice,” he replied, his voice suddenly shaking. “I have punished myself for it every day. Your mother was braver than I in those days.”
“Then let’s go and sit in the shade of the portico and play a game of Dogs and Jackals while Merenra prepares the hall for the evening meal.” Huy held him away and they smiled at each other. “He’s awake. I hear his tread in the passage.”
Hapu nodded. Huy took the box containing the gaming pieces from a shelf, and together they went along the passage, across the reception room, and out to the front of the house, where the shadows were already beginning to lengthen.
At sunset, they all gathered to eat the feast Khnit had prepared, and there was much talk and laughter as Merenra’s assistant went about lighting the lamps on their tall stands and the corners of the pleasant room sprang into sight. “All we need now are enough servants to stand behind each of us with fans waving,” Ishat said.
“I cannot imagine what task the King might set me that I could not perform,” he answered huskily.
Hapu rapped the desk. “The higher they are, the farther they can fall,” he retorted, “and you are already very high in this land. There are few who do not know your name, Great Seer!” He straightened and placed both brown forearms on the table. “You are really no better off than I. I depend on Ker for my livelihood. If I am injured and cannot work his flower fields, I fall. You depend on Amunhotep. If you antagonize him, you and Ishat also would find yourselves back in some hovel in the slums of the town.”
“Well, what do you expect me to do?” Huy’s rising anxiety was making him irritable. He felt as though this man his father, with his dusty greying hair, his sun-scarred skin, his splayed, rough hands, was intruding on a matter that he could not possibly understand. Yet Huy’s intellect knew the truth: he was vulnerable, and Hapu had put his finger on his weakness with a stark accuracy.
Hapu drained his cup and, half rising, reached for the jug and refilled it. “It’s simple,” he said, regaining his seat. “Take some of the King’s gold and invest it. Buy good arable land as it becomes available and have it cropped. I can help you there—I know the state of every farm between Hut-herib and Mennofer. Get that steward of yours to study the trade routes in and out of Egypt, what’s being moved, what’s profitable. Buy into a caravan, or, better still, equip one yourself. Take advantage of your good fortune while it lasts, Huy! Don’t let it make you lazy and indolent! Have you considered the oases? The rich keep summer homes by the lakes, and a lot of the arouras around them are owned by the temples, but the soil is incredibly fertile if you can get your hands on any of it.”
Huy stared at him. None of his father’s suggestions had occurred to him, but they all made sense. “His Majesty would know,” he objected.
Hapu shrugged. “He would probably applaud your wisdom, and besides, the less gold he has to send you, the more stays in the Royal Treasury. Talk to Ishat. She’s a sensible young woman, for all her frivolous fussing over baubles. You should marry her, Huy. It’s obvious that you love her. What are you waiting for? She’s always adored you. And for Amun’s sake, get your hair cut! You look like an aristocratic courtesan.”
So Mother decided to keep her counsel regarding my enforced impotence, Huy thought. She didn’t even tell her husband.
He forced a laugh and rose. “I’m so glad you came today. I think this visit has brought us closer, Father, cleared away the cloud between us. Will you forgive me the grudge I have held against you for so long?”
Hapu also got up and, coming around the desk, pressed Huy to his chest. “If you can forgive me my cowardice,” he replied, his voice suddenly shaking. “I have punished myself for it every day. Your mother was braver than I in those days.”
“Then let’s go and sit in the shade of the portico and play a game of Dogs and Jackals while Merenra prepares the hall for the evening meal.” Huy held him away and they smiled at each other. “He’s awake. I hear his tread in the passage.”
Hapu nodded. Huy took the box containing the gaming pieces from a shelf, and together they went along the passage, across the reception room, and out to the front of the house, where the shadows were already beginning to lengthen.
At sunset, they all gathered to eat the feast Khnit had prepared, and there was much talk and laughter as Merenra’s assistant went about lighting the lamps on their tall stands and the corners of the pleasant room sprang into sight. “All we need now are enough servants to stand behind each of us with fans waving,” Ishat said.
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