| |||||
|
II
Imhotep paced up and down the central hall of the hosue. His fine linen
robe was soiled and limp, he had neither bathed nor changed. His face
was drawn with worry and fear.
From the back of the house came a low sound of keening and weeping–
the women’s contribution to the catastrophe that had overrun the house-
hold–Henet’s voice led the mourners.
From a room at the side, the voice of the physician and priest Mersu was
heard raised as he strove over the inert body of Yahmose. Renisenb, steal-
ing quietly out of the women’s quarters into the central hall, was drawn
by the sound. Her feet took her to the open doorway and she paused there,
feeling a healing balm in the sonorous words that the Priest was reciting.
‘Oh Isis, great of magic, loose thou me, release thou me from all things bad,
evil and red, from the stroke of a God, from the stroke of a Goddess, from dead
man or dead woman, from a male foe, or a female foe who may oppose himself
to me…’
A faint sigh came fluttering from Yahmose’s lips.
In her heart Renisenb joined in the prayer.
‘Oh Isis–oh great Isis–save him–save my brother Yahmose–Thou who art
great of magic…’
Thoughts passed confusedly through her mind, raised there by the
words of the incantation.
‘From all things bad, evil and red…That is what has been the matter with
us here in this house–yes, red thoughts, angry thoughts–the anger of a
dead woman.’
She spoke within the confines of her thoughts, directly addressing the
person in her mind.
‘I was not Yahmose who harmed you, Nofret–and though Satipy was his
wife, you cannot hold him responsible for her actions–he never had any
control over her–no one had. Satipy who harmed you is dead. Is that not
enough? Sobek is dead–Sobek who only spoke against you, yet never actu-
ally harmed you. Oh Isis, do not let Yahmose also die–save him from the
vengeful hatred of Nofret.’
Imhotep, pacing distractedly up and down, looked up and saw his
daughter and his face relaxed with affection.
‘Come here, Renisenb, dear child.’
She ran to him and he put his arms around her.
‘Oh, father, what do they say?’
Imhotep said heavily: ‘They say that in Yahmose’s case there is hope.
Sobek–you know?’
‘Yes, yes. Have you not heard us wailing?’
‘He died at dawn,’ said Imhotep. ‘Sobek, my strong, handsome son.’ His
voice faltered and broke.
‘Oh it is wicked, cruel–could nothing be done?’
‘All was done that could be. Potions forcing him to vomit. Administra-
tion of the juice of potent herbs. Sacred amulets were applied and mighty
incantations spoken. All was of no avail. Mersu is a skilled physician. If he
could not save my son–then it was the will of the Gods that he should not
be saved.’
The priest physician’s voice rose in a final high chant and he came out
from the chamber, wiping the perspiration from his forehead.
‘Well?’ Imhotep accosted him eagerly.
The physician said gravely: ‘By the favour of Isis your son will live. He is
weak, but the crisis of the poison has passed. The evil influence is on the
wane.’
He went on, slightly altering his tone to a more everyday intonation.
‘It is fortunate that Yahmose drank much less of the poisoned wine. He
sipped his wine whereas it seems your son Sobek tossed it off at a
draught.’
Imhotep groaned.
‘You have there the difference between them. Yahmose timid, cautious
and slow in his approach to everything. Even eating and drinking. Sobek,
always given to excess, generous, free-handed–alas! imprudent.’
Then he added sharply:
‘And the wine was definitely poisoned?’
‘There is no doubt of that, Imhotep. The residue was tested by my young
assistants–of the animals treated with it, all died more or less swiftly.’
‘And yet I who had drunk the same wine not an hour earlier have felt no
ill effects.’
‘It was doubtless not poisoned at that time–the poison was added after-
wards.’
Imhotep struck the palm of one hand with his other hand clenched into
a fist.
‘No one,’ he declared, ‘no one living would dare to poison my sons here
under my roof! Such a thing is impossible. No living person, I say!’
Mersu inclined his head slightly. His face became inscrutable.
‘Of that, Imhotep, you are the best judge.’
Imhotep stood scratching nervously behind his ear.
‘There is a tale I would like you to hear,’ he said abruptly.
He clapped his hands and as a servant ran in, he called:
‘Bring the herd boy here.’
He turned back to Mersu, saying:
‘This is a boy whose wits are not of the best. He takes in what people say
to him with difficulty and he has not full possession of his faculties. Never-
theless he has eyes and his eye-sight is good, and he is moreover devoted
to my son Yahmose who has been gentle with him and kindly to his in-
firmity.’
The servant came back, dragging by the hand a thin, almost black-
skinned boy, clad in a loin- cloth, with slightly squinting eyes and a
frightened, witless face.
‘Speak,’ said Imhotep sharply. ‘Repeat what you told me just now.’
The boy hung his head, his fingers began kneading the cloth round his
waist.
‘Speak,’ shouted Imhotep.
Esa came hobbling in, supported by her stick and peering with her dim
eyes.
‘You are terrifying the child. Here, Renisenb, give him this jujube. There,
boy, tell us what you saw.’
The boy gazed from one to the other of them.
Esa prompted him.
‘It was yesterday, as you passed the door of the courtyard–you saw–
what did you see?’
The boy shook his head, glancing sideways. He murmured:
‘Where is my Lord Yahmose?’
The priest spoke with authority and kindliness:
‘It is the wish of your Lord Yahmose that you tell us your tale. Have no
fear. No one will hurt you.’
A gleam of light passed over the boy’s face. ‘My Lord Yahmose has been
good to me. I will do what he wishes.’
He paused. Imhotep seemed about to break out, but a look from the
physician restrained him.
Suddenly the boy spoke, nervously, in a quick gabble, and with a look
from side to side as he spoke, as though he was afraid that some unseen
presence would overhear him.
‘It was the little donkey–protected by Seth and always up to mischief. I
ran after him with my stick. He went past the big gate of the courtyard,
and I looked in through the gate at the house. There was no one on the
porch, but there was a wine-stand there. And then a woman, a lady of the
house, came out upon the porch from the house. She walked to the wine
jar and she held out her hands over it and then–and then–she went back
into the house, I think. I do not know. For I heard footsteps and turned
and saw in the distance my Lord Yahmose coming back from the fields. So
I went on seeking the little donkey, and my Lord Yahmose went into the
courtyard.’
‘And you did not warn him,’ cried Imhotep, angrily. ‘You said nothing.’
The boy cried out, ‘I did not know anything was wrong. I saw nothing
but the lady standing there smiling down as she spread out her hands
over the wine jar…I saw nothing…’
‘Who was this lady, boy?’ asked the priest.
With a vacant expression the boy shook his head.
‘I do not know. She must have been one of the ladies of the house. I do
not know them. I have the herds at the far end of the cultivation. She wore
a dress of dyed linen.’
Renisenb started.
‘A servant, perhaps?’ suggested the priest, watching the boy.
The boy shook his head positively.
‘She was not a servant…She had a wig on her head and she wore jewels–
a servant does not wear jewels.’
‘Jewels?’ demanded Imhotep. ‘What jewels?’
The boy replied eagerly and confidently as though at last he had over-
come his fear and was quite sure of what he was saying.
‘Three strings of beads with gold lions hanging from them in front…’
Esa’s stick clattered to the floor. Imhotep uttered a stifled cry.
Mersu said threateningly: ‘If you are lying, boy–’
‘It is the truth. I swear it is the truth.’ The boy’s voice rose shrill and
clear.
From the side chamber where the ill man lay, Yahmose called feebly:
‘What is all this?’
The boy darted through the open door and crouched down by the couch
on which Yahmose lay.
‘Master, they will torture me.’
‘No, no.’ Yahmose turned his head with difficulty on the curved, wooden
headrest. ‘Do not let the child be hurt. He is simple, but honest. Promise
me.’
‘Of course, of course,’ said Imhotep. ‘There is no need. It is clear the boy
has told all that he knows–and I do not think he is inventing. Be off with
you, child, but do not return to the far herds. Stay near the house so that
we can summon you again if we need you.’
The boy rose to his feet. He bent a reluctant glance upon Yahmose.
‘You are ill, Lord Yahmose?’
Yahmose smiled faintly.
‘Have no fear. I am not going to die. Go now–and be obedient to what
you have been told.’
Smiling happily now, the boy went off. The priest examined Yahmose’s
eyes and felt the rate at which the blood was coursing under the skin.
Then, recommending him to sleep, he went with the others out into the
central hall again.
He said to Imhotep:
‘You recognize the description the boy gave?’
Imhotep nodded. His deep, bronze cheeks showed a sickly plum colour.
Renisenb said: ‘Only Nofret ever wore a dress of dyed linen. It was a
new fashion she brought with her from the cities in the North. But those
dresses were buried with her.’
Imhotep said:
‘And the three strings of beads with the lions’ heads in gold were what I
gave her. There is no other such ornament in the house. It was costly and
unusual. All her jewellery, with the exception of a trumpery string of car-
nelian beads, was buried with her and is sealed in her tomb.’
He flung out his arms.
‘What persecution–what vindictiveness is this! My concubine whom I
treated well, to whom I paid all honour, whom I buried with the proper
rites, sparing no expense. I have eaten and drunk with her in friendship–
to that all can bear witness. She had had nothing of which to complain–I
did indeed more for her than would have been considered right and fit-
ting. I was prepared to favour her to the detriment of my sons who were
born to me. Why, then, should she thus come back from the dead to perse-
cute me and my family?’
Mersu said gravely:
‘It seems that it is not against you personally that the dead woman
wishes evil. The wine when you drank it was harmless. Who in your fam-
ily did injury to your dead concubine?’
‘A woman who is dead,’ Imhotep answered shortly.
‘I see. You mean the wife of your son Yahmose?’
‘Yes.’ Imhotep paused, then broke out: ‘But what can be done, Reverend
Father? How can we counteract this malice? Oh, evil day when I first took
the woman into my house.’
‘An evil day, indeed,’ said Kait in a deep voice, coming forward from the
entrance to the women’s quarters.
Her eyes were heavy with the tears she had shed, and her plain face had
a strength and resolution which made it noticeable. Her voice, deep and
hoarse, was shaken with anger.
‘It was an evil day when you brought Nofret here, Imhotep, to destroy
the cleverest and most handsome of your sons! She has brought death to
Satipy and death to my Sobek, and Yahmose has only narrowly escaped.
Who will be next? Will she spare even children–she who struck my little
Ankh? Something must be done, Imhotep!’
‘Something must be done,’ Imhotep echoed, looking imploringly at the
priest.
The latter nodded his head with calm assumption.
‘There are ways and means, Imhotep. Once we are sure of our facts, we
can go ahead. I have in mind your dead wife, Ashayet. She was a woman
of influential family. She can invoke powerful interests in the Land of the
Dead, who can intervene on your behalf and against whom the woman
Nofret will have no power. We must take counsel together.’
Kait gave a short laugh.
‘Do not wait too long. Men are always the same– Yes, even priests!
Everything must be done according to law and precedent. But I say, act
quickly–or there will be more dead beneath this roof.’
She turned and went out.
‘An excellent woman,’ murmured Imhotep. ‘A devoted mother to her
children, a dutiful wife– but her manners, sometimes, are hardly what
they should be–to the head of the house. Naturally at such a time I forgive
her. We are all distraught. We hardly know what we are doing.’
He clasped his hands to his head.
‘Some of us seldom do know what we are doing,’ remarked Esa.
Imhotep shot an annoyed glance at her. The physician prepared to take
his leave and Imhotep went out with him on to the porch, receiving in-
structions for the care of the sick man.
Renisenb, left behind, looked inquiringly at her grandmother.
Esa was sitting very still. She was frowning and the expression on her
face was so curious that Renisenb asked timidly:
‘What is it that you are thinking, grandmother?’
‘Thinking is the word, Renisenb. Such curious things are happening in
this house that it is very necessary for someone to think.’
‘They are terrible,’ said Renisenb with a shiver. ‘They frighten me.’
‘They frighten me,’ said Esa. ‘But not perhaps for the same reason.’
With the old familiar gesture, she pushed the wig on her head askew.
‘But Yahmose will not die now,’ said Renisenb. ‘He will live.’
Esa nodded.
‘Yes, a Master Physician reached him in time. On another occasion,
though, he may not be so lucky.’
‘You think–there will be other happenings like this?’
‘I think that Yahmose and you and Ipy–and perhaps Kait too, had better
be very careful indeed what you eat and drink. See always that a slave
tastes it first.’
‘And you, grandmother?’
Esa smiled her sardonic smile.
‘I, Renisenb, am an old woman, and I love life as only the old can, sa-
vouring every hour, every minute that is left to them. Of you all I have the
best chance of life–because I shall be more careful than any of you.’
‘And my father? Surely Nofret would wish no evil to my father?’
‘Your father? I do not know…No, I do not know. I cannot as yet see
clearly. Tomorrow, when I have thought about it all, I must speak once
more with that herd boy. There was something about his story–’
She broke off, frowning. Then, with a sigh, she rose to her feet, and help-
ing herself with her stick, limped slowly back to her own quarters.
Renisenb went into her brother’s room. He was sleeping and she crept
out again softly. After a moment’s hesitation she went to Kait’s quarters.
She stood in the doorway unnoticed, watching Kait sing one of the chil-
dren to sleep. Kait’s face was calm and placid again–she looked so much as
usual that for a moment Renisenb felt that the whole tragic occurrences of
the last twenty-four hours were a dream.
She turned slowly away and went to her own apartment. On a table,
amongst her own cosmetic boxes and jars, was the little jewel case that
had belonged to Nofret.
Renisenb picked it up and stood looking at it as it lay on the palm of her
hand. Nofret had touched it, had held it–it was her possession.
And again a wave of pity swept over Renisenb, allied to that queer sense
of understanding. Nofret had been unhappy. As she had held this little box
in her hand perhaps she had deliberately forced that unhappiness into
malice and hatred…and even now that hatred was unabated…was still
seeking revenge…Oh no, surely not–surely not!
Almost mechanically, Renisenb twisted the two buttons and slid back
the lid. The carnelian beads were there and the broken amulet and some-
thing else…
Her heart beating violently, Renisenb drew out a necklace of gold beads
with gold lions in front…
|
|||||
上一篇：死亡终局30 下一篇：没有了 |
- 发表评论
-
- 最新评论 进入详细评论页>>
