Death Comes as the End Page 8

  CHAPTER NINE

  FOURTH MONTH OF WINTER 6TH DAY

  Imhotep sat facing Esa.

  ‘They all tell the same story,’ he said fretfully.

  ‘That is at least convenient,’ said Esa.

  ‘Convenient–convenient? What extraordinary words you use!’

  Esa gave a short cackle.

  ‘I know what I am saying, my son.’

  ‘Are they speaking the truth, that is what I have to decide!’ Imhotep spoke portentously.

  ‘You are hardly the goddess Maat. Nor, like Anubis, can you weigh the heart in a balance!’

  ‘Was it an accident?’ Imhotep shook his head judicially. ‘I have to remember that the announcement of my intentions towards my ungrateful family may have aroused some passionate feelings.’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ said Esa. ‘Feelings were aroused. They shouted so in the main hall that I could hear what was said in my room here. By the way, were those really your intentions?’

  Imhotep shifted uneasily as he murmured:

  ‘I wrote in anger–in justifiable anger. My family needed teaching a sharp lesson.’

  ‘In other words,’ said Esa, ‘you were merely giving them a fright. Is that it?’

  ‘My dear mother, does that matter now?’

  ‘I see,’ said Esa. ‘You did not know what you meant to do. Muddled thinking as usual.’

  Imhotep controlled his irritation with an effort.

  ‘I simply mean that that particular point no longer arises. It is the facts of Nofret’s death that are now in question. If I were to believe that anyone in my family could be so undutiful, so unbalanced in their anger, as wantonly to harm the girl–I–I really do not know what I should do!’

  ‘So it is fortunate,’ said Esa, ‘that they all tell the same story! Nobody has hinted at anything else, have they?’

  ‘Certainly not.’

  ‘Then why not regard the incident as closed? You should have taken the girl North with you. I told you so at the time.’

  ‘Then you do believe–’

  Esa said with emphasis:

  ‘I believe what I am told, unless it conflicts with what I have seen with my own eyes (which is very little nowadays), or heard with my own ears. You have questioned Henet, I suppose? What has she to say of the matter?’

  ‘She is deeply distressed–very distressed. On my behalf.’

  Esa raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Indeed. You surprise me.’

  ‘Henet,’ said Imhotep warmly, ‘has a lot of heart.’

  ‘Quite so. She has also more than the usual allowance of tongue. If distress at your loss is her only reaction, I should certainly regard the incident as closed. There are plenty of other affairs to occupy your attention.’

  ‘Yes, indeed.’ Imhotep rose with a reassumption of his fussy, important manner. ‘Yahmose is waiting for me now in the main hall with all sorts of matters needing my urgent attention. There are many decisions awaiting my sanction. As you say, private grief must not usurp the main functions of life.’

  He hurried out.

  Esa smiled for a moment, a somewhat sardonic smile, then her face grew grave again. She sighed and shook her head.

  II

  Yahmose was awaiting his father with Kameni in attendance. Hori, Yahmose explained, was superintending the work of the embalmers and undertakers who were busy with the last stages of the funeral preparations.

  It had taken Imhotep some weeks to journey home after receiving the news of Nofret’s death, and the funeral preparations were now almost completed. The body had received its long soaking in the brine bath, had been restored to some semblance of its normal appearance, had been oiled and rubbed with salts, and duly wrapped in its bandages and deposited in its coffin.

  Yahmose explained that he had appointed a small funeral chamber near the rock tomb designed later to hold the body of Imhotep himself. He went into the details of what he had ordered and Imhotep expressed his approval.

  ‘You have done well, Yahmose,’ he said kindly. ‘You seem to have shown very good judgement and to have kept your head well.’

  Yahmose coloured a little at this unexpected praise.

  ‘Ipi and Montu are, of course, expensive embalmers,’ went on Imhotep. ‘These canopic jars, for instance, seem to me unduly costly. There is really no need for such extravagance. Some of their charges seem to me much too high. That is the worst of these embalmers who have been employed by the Governor’s family. They think they can charge any fantastic prices they like. It would have come much cheaper to go to somebody less well known.’

  ‘In your absence,’ said Yahmose, ‘I had to decide on these matters–and I was anxious that all honour should be paid to a concubine for whom you had so great a regard.’

  Imhotep nodded and patted Yahmose’s shoulder.

  ‘It was a fault on the right side, my son. You are, I know, usually most prudent in money matters. I appreciate that in this matter, any unnecessary expense was incurred in order to please me. All the same, I am not made of money, and a concubine is–er ahem!–only a concubine. We will cancel, I think, the more expensive of the amulets–and let me see, there are one or two other ways of cutting down the fees…Just read out the items of the estimate, Kameni.’

  Kameni rustled the papyrus.

  Yahmose breathed a sigh of relief.

  III

  Kait, coming slowly out from the house to the lake, paused where the children and their mothers were.

  ‘You were right, Satipy,’ she said. ‘A dead concubine is not the same as a live concubine!’

  Satipy looked up at her, her eyes vague and unseeing. It was Renisenb who asked quickly:

  ‘What do you mean, Kait?’

  ‘For a live concubine, nothing was too good–clothes, jewels–even the inheritance of Imhotep’s own flesh and blood! But now Imhotep is busy cutting down the cost of the funeral expenses! After all, why waste money on a dead woman? Yes, Satipy, you were right.’

  Satipy murmured: ‘What did I say? I have forgotten.’

  ‘It is best so,’ agreed Kait. ‘I, too, have forgotten. And Renisenb also.’

  Renisenb looked at Kait without speaking. There had been something in Kait’s voice–something faintly menacing, that impressed Renisenb disagreeably. She had always been accustomed to think of Kait as rather a stupid woman–someone gentle and submissive, but rather negligible. It struck her now that Kait and Satipy seemed to have changed places. Satipy the dominant and aggressive was subdued–almost timid. It was the quiet Kait who now seemed to domineer over Satipy.

  But people, thought Renisenb, do not really change their characters–or do they? She felt confused. Had Kait and Satipy really changed in the last few weeks, or was the change in the one the result of the change in the other? Was it Kait who had grown aggressive? Or did she merely seem so because of the sudden collapse of Satipy?

  Satipy definitely was different. Her voice was no longer upraised in the familiar shrewish accents. She crept round the courtyard and the house with a nervous, shrinking gait quite unlike her usual self-assured manner. Renisenb had put down the change in her to the shock of Nofret’s death, but it was incredible that that shock could last so long. It would have been far more like Satipy, Renisenb could not but think, to have exulted openly in a matter of fact manner over the concubine’s sudden and untimely death. As it was, she shrank nervously whenever Nofret’s name was mentioned. Even Yahmose seemed to be exempt from her hectoring and bullying and had, in consequence, begun to assume a more resolute demeanour himself. At any rate, the change in Satipy was all to the good–or at least so Renisenb supposed. Yet something about it made her vaguely uneasy…

  Suddenly, with a start, Renisenb became aware that Kait was looking at her, was frowning. Kait, she realized, was waiting for a word of assent to something she had just said.

  ‘Renisenb also,’ repeated Kait, ‘has forgotten.’

  Suddenly Renisenb felt a flood of revolt overwhelm her. Neith
er Kait, nor Satipy, nor anyone should dictate to her what she should or should not remember. She returned Kait’s look steadily with a distinct hint of defiance.

  ‘The women of a household,’ said Kait, ‘must stand together.’

  Renisenb found her voice. She said clearly and defiantly:

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because their interests are the same.’

  Renisenb shook her head violently. She thought, confusedly, ‘I am a person as well as a woman. I am Renisenb.’

  Aloud she said: ‘It is not so simple as that.’

  ‘Do you want to make trouble, Renisenb?’

  ‘No. And anyway, what do you mean by trouble?’

  ‘Everything that was said that day in the big hall had best be forgotten.’

  Renisenb laughed.

  ‘You are stupid, Kait. The servants, the slaves, my grandmother–everyone must have overheard! Why pretend that things did not happen that did happen?’

  ‘We were angry,’ said Satipy in a dull voice. ‘We did not mean what we said.’

  She added with a feverish irritability:

  ‘Stop talking about it, Kait. If Renisenb wants to make trouble, let her.’

  ‘I don’t want to make trouble,’ said Renisenb, indignantly. ‘But it is stupid to pretend.’

  ‘No,’ said Kait. ‘It is wisdom. You have Teti to consider.’

  ‘Teti is all right.’

  ‘Everything is all right–now that Nofret is dead,’ Kait smiled.

  It was a serene, quiet, satisfied smile–and again Renisenb felt a tide of revolt rise in her.

  Yet what Kait said was true. Now that Nofret was dead everything was all right.

  Satipy, Kait, herself, the children…All secure–all at peace–with no apprehensions for the future. The intruder, the disturbing, menacing stranger, had departed–for ever.

  Then why this stirring of an emotion that she did not understand on Nofret’s behalf? Why this feeling of championship for the dead girl whom she had not liked? Nofret was wicked and Nofret was dead–could she not leave it at that? Why this sudden stab of pity–of something more than pity–something that was almost comprehension?

  Renisenb shook her head perplexedly. She sat on there by the water after the others had gone in, trying vainly to understand the confusion in her mind.

  The sun was low when Hori, crossing the courtyard, saw her and came to sit beside her.

  ‘It is late, Renisenb. The sun is setting. You should go in.’ His grave, quiet voice soothed her, as always. She turned to him with a question.

  ‘Must the women of a household stick together?’

  ‘Who has been saying that to you, Renisenb?’

  ‘Kait. She and Satipy–’

  Renisenb broke off.

  ‘And you–want to think for yourself?’

  ‘Oh, think! I do not know how to think, Hori. Everything is confused in my head. People are confused. Everybody is different from what I thought they were. Satipy I always thought was bold, resolute, domineering. But now she is weak, vacillating, even timid. Then which is the real Satipy? People cannot change like that in a day.’

  ‘Not in a day–no.’

  ‘And Kait–she who was always meek and submissive and let everybody bully her. Now she dominates us all! Even Sobek seems afraid of her. And even Yahmose is different–he gives orders and expects them to be obeyed!’

  ‘And all this confuses you, Renisenb?’

  ‘Yes. Because I do not understand. I feel sometimes that even Henet may be quite different from what she appears to be!’

  Renisenb laughed as though at an absurdity, but Hori did not join her. His face remained grave and thoughtful.

  ‘You have never thought very much about people, have you, Renisenb? If you had you would realize–’ He paused and then went on. ‘You know that in all tombs there is always a false door?’

  Renisenb stared. ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Well, people are like that too. They create a false door–to deceive. If they are conscious of weakness, of inefficiency, they make an imposing door of self-assertion, of bluster, of overwhelming authority–and, after a time, they get to believe in it themselves. They think, and everybody thinks, that they are like that. But behind that door, Renisenb, is bare rock…And so when reality comes and touches them with the feather of truth–their true self reasserts itself. For Kait gentleness and submission brought her all she desired–a husband and children. Stupidity made life easier for her–but when reality in the form of danger threatened, her true nature appeared. She did not change, Renisenb–that strength and that ruthlessness were always there.’

  Renisenb said childishly: ‘But I do not like it, Hori. It makes me afraid. Everyone being different from what I thought them. And what about myself? I am always the same.’

  ‘Are you?’ He smiled at her. ‘Then why have you sat here all these hours, your forehead puckered, brooding and thinking? Did the old Renisenb–the Renisenb who went away with Khay–ever do that?’

  ‘Oh no. There was no need–’ Renisenb stopped.

  ‘You see? You have said it yourself. That is the word of reality–need! You are not the happy, unthinking child you have always appeared to be, accepting everything at its face value. You are not just one of the women of the household. You are Renisenb who wants to think for herself, who wonders about other people…’

  Renisenb said slowly: ‘I have been wondering about Nofret…’

  ‘What have you been wondering?’

  ‘I have been wondering why I cannot forget her…She was bad and cruel and tried to do us harm and she is dead–why can I not leave it at that?’

  ‘Can you not leave it at that?’

  ‘No. I try to–but–’ Renisenb paused. She passed her hand across her eyes perplexedly. ‘Sometimes I feel I know about Nofret, Hori.’

  ‘Know? What do you mean?’

  ‘I can’t explain. But it comes to me every now and then–almost as though she were here, beside me. I feel–almost–as though I were her–I seem to know what she felt. She was very unhappy, Hori, I know that now, though I didn’t at the time. She wanted to hurt us all because she was so unhappy.’

  ‘You cannot know that, Renisenb.’

  ‘No, of course I cannot know it, but it is what I feel. That misery, that bitterness, that black hate–I saw it in her face once, and I did not understand! She must have loved someone and then something went wrong–perhaps he died…or went away–but it left her like that–wanting to hurt, to wound. Oh! you may say what you like, I know I am right! She became a concubine to that old man, my father–and she came here, and we disliked her–and she thought she would make us all as unhappy as she was–Yes, that was how it was!’

  Hori looked at her curiously.

  ‘How sure you sound, Renisenb. And yet you did not know Nofret well.’

  ‘But I feel it is true, Hori. I feel her–Nofret. Sometimes I feel her quite close beside me…’

  ‘I see.’

  There was a silence between them. It was almost dark now.

  Then Hori said quietly: ‘You believe, do you not, that Nofret did not die by accident? You think she was thrown down?’

  Renisenb felt a passionate repugnance at hearing her belief put into words.

  ‘No, no, don’t say it.’

  ‘But I think, Renisenb, we had better say it–since it is in your head. You do think so?’

  ‘I–yes!’

  Hori bent his head thoughtfully. He went on:

  ‘And you think it was Sobek who did it?’

  ‘Who else could it have been? You remember him with the snake? And you remember what he said–that day–the day of her death–before he went out of the great hall?’

  ‘I remember what he said, yes. But it is not always the people who say most who do most!’

  ‘But don’t you believe she was killed?’

  ‘Yes, Renisenb, I do…But it is, after all, only an opinion. I have no proof. I do not think there ever c
an be proof. That is why I have encouraged Imhotep to accept the verdict of accident. Someone pushed Nofret–we shall never know who it was.’

  ‘You mean, you don’t think it was Sobek?’

  ‘I do not think so. But as I say, we can never know–so it is best not to think about it.’

  ‘But–if it was not Sobek–who do you think it was?’

  Hori shook his head.

  ‘If I have an idea–it may be the wrong idea. So it is better not to say…’

  ‘But then–we shall never know!’

  There was dismay in Renisenb’s voice.

  ‘Perhaps–’ Hori hesitated–‘perhaps that may be the best thing.’

  ‘Not to know?’

  ‘Not to know.’

  Renisenb shivered.

  ‘But then–oh, Hori, I am afraid!’

  PART THREE

  SUMMER

  CHAPTER TEN

  FIRST MONTH OF SUMMER 11TH DAY

  The final ceremonies had been completed and the incantations duly spoken. Montu, a Divine Father of the Temple of Hathor, took the broom of heden grass and carefully swept out the chamber whilst he recited the charm to remove the footprints of all evil spirits before the door was sealed up for ever.

  Then the Tomb was sealed, and all that remained of the embalmers’ work, pots full of natron, salt and rags that had been in contact with the body, were placed in a little chamber nearby, and that too was sealed.

  Imhotep squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, relaxing his devout funeral expression. Everything had been done in a befitting manner. Nofret had been buried with all the prescribed rites and with no sparing of expense (somewhat undue expense in Imhotep’s opinion).

  Imhotep exchanged courtesies with Priests who, their sacred office now finished, reassumed their men of the world manner. Everyone descended to the house where suitable refreshments were waiting. Imhotep discussed with the principal Divine Father the recent political changes. Thebes was rapidly becoming a very powerful city. It was possible that Egypt might once more be united under one ruler before very long. The Golden Age of the Pyramid builders might return.