Murder in Mennefer, page 18
He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold the enraged, terrified creature for more than another few moments.
He positioned himself to one side of the door. To attract his captors, he cried out in fear, fear that was only partially simulated. At the same time, he kicked the stool over. It clattered along the floor and fetched up against the wall with a thump. He cried out again.
The snake whipped and hissed, growing increasingly enraged. Thoth give me strength! From outside he heard a muffled exclamation. Mereruka said, “That didn’t take long, did it?”
Imhotep heard Ahmose say, “Be careful, you fool!”
The door swung open, and Mereruka stuck his head into the room, looking around cautiously. Imhotep thrust the snake at him. The maddened reptile, seeing a potential threat come within range, struck out, burying its fangs in the man’s narrow face.
Mereruka screamed and fell back, staggering and clawing at his cheek.
Imhotep immediately followed him out, still holding the cobra, which was whipping around and hissing.
“What happened, Mereruka? By Horus what happened? Why did—” Kagemni broke off as he saw Imhotep step out of the hovel. “Gods!” Mereruka lay on the ground, yammering in pain and fear.
Kagemni recoiled, real terror in his eyes. With triumph surging in his veins Imhotep flung the twisting cobra at him and was gratified by the burly foreman’s shriek of fear.
There was no sign of Ahmose, and Imhotep took no time to look for him. Doubtless the coward fled at the first sign of trouble. He raced off blindly into the darkness, clad only in his loincloth, trusting to the stars to orient him. Behind him the wailing voices of Kagemni and Mereruka died in the distance.
Weni-Ka will be interested to learn of those two…though by the time he arrests them they may already be standing for their judgment at the Scale of Ma’at, sent there by my cobra. May the Eater of Souls take them!
Following the odor of mud, he trotted toward the bank of the Nile. Now, am I south of Mennefer or to the north of it? He hastened toward the shore, alert to pursuit by his captors or to assault by a night-flying demon. He lacked his protective amulet now; he had dropped it during the confusion.
He topped a low rise and saw the Nile ahead of him, forming a broad band running across the land. About halfway between his position and the shore he spied a man running.
Ahmose. He rejected the idea that the fleeing figure could be anyone else. Though he was unarmed, Imhotep immediately set out to follow his father’s murderous First Assistant. On the one hand he wanted to remain to see his plan to its end, but he knew he had to follow Ahmose.
20
He almost wished he still had the snake, but in his present state of fury he felt more than capable of dealing with Ahmose on his own.
Down at the shore, Ahmose turned left and hurried along with Imhotep shadowing him and doing his best to keep low so as not to be seen. But Ahmose never looked back. Ahead of Ahmose Imhotep saw something lying on the riverbank. A crocodile! Well, I’m happy to have another animal do my work for me this night.
But it wasn’t one of the scaly monsters. It was a long, low reed boat. Ahmose dragged it down to the water and pushed it in. Imhotep, flattening himself into the mud along the river, ground his teeth. He was all ready to make a quick getaway. A clever snake in his own right. But where is he going?
The boat slid out into the water. Imhotep, seeing his quarry escaping, chewed his lips in frustration. He glanced up at the glittering stars that spangled the night. No moon…He growled and walked to the water, then in until it was up to his thighs, praying that Ahmose would not look back and spot his pale body against the darker background of the river and the shore. Imhotep dove quietly into the Nile and swam after Ahmose’s boat.
Imhotep was a good swimmer, but as Ahmose’s boat pulled ahead, he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep up. Fortunately, Ahmose seemed to be headed straight across to the western shore. The Nile was not terribly wide at this point, so Imhotep pursued him without much concern other than for river-dwelling predators like crocodiles or hippos. Now that it was night, however, there probably wasn’t much to be afraid of.
Probably.
Where is he going? Does he have other confederates over there? Imhotep kept as low in the water as he could, letting Ahmose get far enough ahead of him that he had little fear of being seen.
Close to the opposite shore, Ahmose angled his boat to the left, heading upstream to the south. Wondering, Imhotep went ashore and followed on land, keeping up as best he could along the riverbank. Ahmose drew ahead of him, but not by much.
Buildings appeared on the opposite side of the river. At last Imhotep knew where he was. We approach Mennefer. But why on the western shore? Here is only the City of the Dead, tombs…He cannot mean to go there.
Apparently, however, he did. Ahmose grounded the boat not far from the ferry landing, which was deserted at this hour. Dripping wet and shivering in the cool air, Imhotep trailed the First Assistant as he made his way up toward the ranked tombs.
Imhotep’s flesh crawled at the proximity of so many dead, but he refused to give in to fear. Ahmose obviously knew exactly where he was going.
As he passed a familiar spur of rock, Imhotep gasped in understanding. He is going to my father’s tomb! But why?
Dread and fury rippled through him. How dare this insect be anywhere near the resting place of the man he had murdered?
Ahead of him, Ahmose had reached Kaneferw’s small monument. Now he pulled something from his tunic and bent over on the ground. The sounds of rock striking rock came to Imhotep through the quiet night air. Light flared: Ahmose had struck a torch. Jamming it into the ground, he yanked the tomb’s door open.
Shocked to his core, Imhotep struggled to restrain himself. The desecration revolted him, but he knew he had to find out what Ahmose was doing.
He shuddered as Ahmose pushed his way inside. Imhotep crept forward. Muffled sounds came from within, like stone grinding on stone.
His eyes went wide. He is opening my father’s sepulcher!
Sickened, Imhotep eased forward.
Now Ahmose appeared at the door of the tomb. In his arms he bore several linen sacks. The thief is robbing Father’s tomb.
It was more than he could bear. Ahmose dumped the sacks on the ground, then went back into the tomb. Imhotep seized a stone and crept forward. Positioning himself to one side of the door where he would not be seen, he stood waiting in the darkness.
Inside he heard more heavy grinding and scraping noises. If he moved Father’s coffin before, now he is moving it back. He clutched the stone in his hand. What could he possibly be doing? There is nothing in there aside from what we left as offerings to help Father during his journey to the West. There is little gold, little silver…What is he after?
Presently Ahmose came out once more, bearing another armload of heavily laden sacks. After setting them down, he grabbed hold of the tomb door and swung it shut, head down with the effort. He looked up and saw Imhotep, who had been standing behind the door. His eyes grew wide.
Imhotep grinned at him. “Blessings of the night to you.” He brought the rock down on Ahmose’s head. Ahmose dropped to the ground without so much as a squeak.
Imhotep stood over the First Assistant’s unconscious form, breathing heavily. For a moment he was sorely tempted to take the rock and smash in Ahmose’s skull, but only for a moment. Imhotep looked through the sacks Ahmose had taken from the tomb. As he had expected, they were full of the goods that had been provided for Kaneferw’s journey to the Beautiful West.
He scowled and tossed the stone to one side. It clattered away in the darkness. Prince Djoser will want to speak with this insect. As will Weni-Ka. He tore Ahmose’s tunic into strips and used them to bind him. Then he sat down to wait for daylight.
“What I really wanted to do, of course, was to run to the palace, but I didn’t want to waste time explaining my story to the guards, and I hated the idea that somehow Ahmose might escape if I left him alone for any length of time. Instead, I decided I would wait until the City of the Dead’s first visitors of the day arrived to pay their respects to their departed and have them fetch someone in authority.”
Imhotep sat in a comfortable room in the royal palace, sipping a mug of beer and helping himself to dainties from a silver plate. His wounds and contusions had been seen to, and despite being short on sleep, he felt better than he had in many weeks. He had done his best to explain where the house in which he had been held captive was located, and guardsmen had been dispatched to find it.
Prince Djoser shook his head in admiration. “By Ptah! I wish I could have seen Ahmose’s face when he saw you standing there.”
“He didn’t have much time to react before I hit him.” Imhotep chuckled.
“You did the right thing.” Djoser grew stern. “Tomb robbing is a serious crime. Ahmose will be very fortunate if the king does not condemn him to death.”
“He knows a great deal about the Sons of Atum, though. I’m sure he’ll be willing to trade information for his life. If not him, then perhaps Kagemni or Mereruka, assuming they survive being bitten by that cobra.”
Djoser looked up as a servant approached him and whispered in his ear.
“Ah! Send them in at once.”
The servant inclined his head and hurried out.
“The guards have returned.”
Before he could say anything else, three beefy men at arms bearing swords and daggers clanked into the room. They knelt and extended their right arms in salute.
Djoser waved an impatient hand. “Yes, yes, honor to you and all that. What of those men?”
“The one called Mereruka was already dead by the time we located the house. The man Kagemni expired before we guards got him halfway back to the palace.”
“Mmm. Very well, thank you, captain. See that the corpses are thrown to the crocodiles.”
Imhotep bit his lips. A horrible fate—not for the two terrorists, who were already dead from cobra venom, but for their spirits. Without proper burial they would wander the red desert lands for eternity, angry and dangerous.
The guard’s face remained impassive. “It shall be as you say, Your Majesty.” He paused.
“Yes, Captain?”
The captain of the guards crooked a finger to one of his men, who came forward with a linen sack. “We found this in a small shack behind the house in which Imhotep was incarcerated.” He handed it to Djoser, who opened the sack.
From within Djoser drew forth a shining gold pectoral necklace, such as a man of means would wear on formal occasions.
Imhotep straightened. “That—that looks like my father’s.”
“Examine it.” Djoser put it in Imhotep’s hands.
“Yes…here is a small scratch on the back. He’d dropped it, you see. As fortune would have it, the blemish wasn’t visible from the front.” He looked at the prince. “We put this in his tomb.”
Djoser inclined his head. “I am sorry that it has been profaned by those jackals, but we will see to it that priests visit your father’s tomb to consecrate it after it is set to rights.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
To the guard, Djoser said, “And thank you, captain. Well done.”
The guard extended his arm once more before rising and marching with his men from the room.
Imhotep sat fingering the gorgeous pectoral, saddened that Ahmose, whom Kaneferw had trusted, had so casually betrayed that trust by violating the tomb’s sanctity, using it for a repository of goods purchased with money embezzled from the atelier’s coffers. Ahmose had readily admitted his deeds under none-too-gentle questioning by the palace guards, saying that he meant to retrieve the goods before the tomb was sealed.
At least we know now that Father was not the profligate and irresponsible man we feared he was, Imhotep thought, and sent a blessing to Kaneferw’s memory. His heart will weigh well against the feather of Ma’at.
Djoser was saying something about Kagemni and Mereruka. “At least we still have Ahmose. And rest assured, my friend, he will be made to talk about others he knows in the Sons of Atum.”
If Ahmose didn’t talk, Imhotep knew, he’d suffer the same fate as his henchmen: eternal exile from the Beautiful West.
“They’ve been clever,” Djoser said, “with this system of tattoos. We’re inspecting all our prisoners to see if any of them have similar ones. We have learned that the Sons are arranged in small groups, with no group knowing all the members of others. Yes, a very clever arrangement, but we have cracked it now.”
At Djoser’s insistence, Imhotep spent the rest of the night in a sumptuous guest room. To his surprise he fell asleep quickly and did not wake until after dawn, when a servant roused him, saying that Djoser wished to see him.
He was ushered into the prince’s presence, where, to his astonishment, he found Sebhot and his mother awaiting him. They both looked perfectly calm and composed, sitting at the morning meal with Djoser.
“Ah, Imhotep. Join us.” The prince extended a hand. Imhotep restrained a grin at his brother’s expression as he and Djoser clasped arms like longtime friends. Djoser must have caught Sebhot’s look as well, because he favored Imhotep with the briefest of winks. “Your mother has told me of your difficulties following Kaneferw’s death.” Djoser frowned. “I wish to say that I am most sorry about his passing. He was a good man, and we valued his work. Of course, we all expected you to follow him in the business.”
Imhotep squirmed in his seat. Was there to be pressure from everyone on him to become an architect? One did not lightly defy the expectations of royalty.“Yes, well—”
Djoser waved a hand. “I also know that you had been about to depart on an adventure down the river when your father died. I envy you.”
“Wh-what?”
“I am not free to do anything that would take me away from my duties here in Mennefer.” Djoser smiled rather sadly. “So, you see, I know something of how you felt about having to go to work in the butcher shop.”
“I had no choice, Honored One. There are debts, they must be paid…”
“Indeed.” Djoser reached into a basket sitting on the floor beside his seat. “I can do something about that, at least.” He drew forth another pectoral, this one even grander than Kaneferw’s. “Ahmose had bought this, intending to give it to his bride-to-be, Nodjnefer. Naturally, she will not now wish to wed a tomb-robber and murderer. We will make suitable recompense to her, but we felt that it would be appropriate to give this to your family.” He handed it to Ankh-kherdu, who gasped as she took it in her hands.
Djoser smiled. “It should pay off all your debts, allow you to repair your father’s tomb, and stock it with new offerings.”
“I have…no words for your generosity, My Prince.” Kherry appeared to want to say more, but her voice choked off and tears welled in her eyes.
“Needless to say, you won’t be working at the abattoir any longer,” said Djoser, scowling. “It pains me deeply to think that we have had such scoundrels in our very midst, defiling the meat we serve in the palace.”
“But not everyone working there was involved,” said Imhotep, thinking of Dhuti and Snefru and Tesh-Pa and the other apprentices.
“I understand that. We will discuss with the other workers the possibility of organizing a new establishment that will supply our needs.”
“Oh, that’s good. Thank you, My Lord.”
Djoser inclined his head. “It is my duty to see to the well-being of the king’s subjects.” When he lifted his head, he smiled at Imhotep. “You’re an intelligent and resourceful young man. Your father spoke very highly of you and your skills.”
“He—he did?”
“Yes. He said that you had a number of interesting ideas about building and architecture.” Djoser stroked his chin. “I am at liberty to reveal something about our plans for the city and the realm in the coming years. There will be a need for architects of vision and accomplishment.”
Imhotep blinked. “I am hardly accomplished, lord. I have helped my father, but—”
“You do not realize that working with the famous Kaneferw places you ahead of many older practitioners of your art. He was respected by my brother the king, Imhotep. Quite well respected.”
Imhotep swallowed. The image of the three-tiered step pyramid he had drawn flashed into his heart for a moment, and he wondered if Djoser would find the design interesting.
“What I wish to say is simply this,” Djoser said. “You will take your voyage. You’ve earned it, Thoth knows!”
Imhotep blinked again at the mention of the god’s name. Could Thoth have something to do with all this? Was he somehow speaking through the prince?
Djoser continued: “When you return, you will resume your studies here, at the palace, in the Temple of Ptah with the learned ones. We will work together, you and I. I feel that there is greatness in you, that you are favored by the gods.” He grinned. “And who am I to argue with the gods?”
21
Just over a week later, Imhotep stood once more at the stone quay in Ankhtowe, at the southern end of Mennefer. Below, the Nile slapped the stone, murmuring wetly. A few paces away a group of sailors was piling goods into a boat rocking on the river’s gentle swell, overseen by the bearded, sweating captain. “Hoy, hoy, hoy, you worthless hyenas! Step lively!”
Kherry eyed the man with distaste. To Imhotep she said, “Are you sure you want to subject yourself to life on the river for the coming year?”
His mother and brother were there to see him off, along with Hau the healer, Odji and his sister Noha, and several of the abattoir’s former apprentices.
Imhotep sighed in frustration. “Mother, not in front of my friends!”
