Princess of Egypt (The Mummifier's Daughter) (Volume 2)

by Nathaniel Burns

  “By Horus! No, we cannot have that!” the elderly healer exclaimed. “I will go and see what I can find. In the meantime, ensure she gets lots of fluids. Give her some bread soaked in beer. It will help keep her strength up.”

  Neti lowered her head. “But how will I know it has not been poisoned?”

  “The person would be foolish to poison the beer, because then everyone in the palace would become ill. Get her servant to collect it.”

  That evening, a kitchen servant took the queen’s meal to her room. Word had spread that the queen was not well, and Ramesses had briefly been to see her before returning to the assembly hall.

  Neti and Nakhtpaaten had ensured that the queen received Neti’s meal and left her to sleep soundly as they waited for the queen’s tray to arrive.

  Neti took the tray from the servant, ensuring she got a good look at the girl, and then dismissed her. She placed the tray on the floor, near where the healer sat, and joined him as he pulled out the small bag.

  He drew out a few of the fine horny poisonous slivers and dropped them on the food. They watched and waited while Neti’s heart pounded in her throat, not certain what to make of the matter of whether the queen had indeed been poisoned. She thought of the multitude of plants she knew that could soothe the effects of poison, trying to remember which would work best, but she found her thoughts jumbled and had no idea where she could even find such plants.

  After some time, she spoke. “Do those really work?”

  “Maybe it is not the food that has been poisoned?” Nakhtpaaten replied.

  Neti looked at the goblet of wine and pointed to it. “Try the wine.”

  He drew a new sliver from his bag and dropped it in the goblet, and once again they watched and waited. Several moments later, bubbles started forming along the sliver. Both of them stared at it for a while before Neti spoke disbelievingly, “The wine is poisoned.”

  Her words seemed to knock Nakhtpaaten out of his stupor. “We need to warn the pharaoh.”

  “Go, take those with you,” Neti urged, pointing to the small satchel the healer held. “I will clean up here.”

  Nakhtpaaten as good as leapt up off the floor, clutching the small satchel to his chest as he ran as fast as his old legs could carry him toward the main assembly room and flung open the doors.

  “Stop! Do not drink the wine!” he gasped before coming to a standstill before the pharaoh.

  Ramesses looked at him in disbelief and firmly demanded, “Why not?”

  “My Lord, forgive me, but it may be poisoned,” Nakhtpaaten managed to get out between breaths.

  Ramesses angled his goblet toward him and looked at its contents. He turned to the healer. “How are we to know?”

  Nakhtpaaten finally regained his breath and straightened himself, then held up the satchel. “I can test it like we did the queen’s.”

  “Maathorneferure has been poisoned?” Ramesses demanded loudly. “Who dares place my wife’s life in jeopardy?”

  “Please, my Lord, let’s just ensure that your wine has not been poisoned as well.”

  Ramesses held out his cup and Nakhtpaaten dropped a sliver into it.

  “Where is Neti?” Ramesses demanded, his voice barely containing his anger.

  “She is still with the queen,” Nakhtpaaten hesitantly replied.

  “Moses!” the pharaoh called.

  “Yes, my Lord!” the young man replied as he came running into the room.

  “Go summon prefect Shabaka. Tell him he is needed here, now!”

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  “Then run and notify my vizier; I will need him here as well.”

  “Yes, my Lord.” The young man performed an about-face and sprinted from the room.

  Ramesses turned his attention back to the healer. “And? Is it poisoned?”

  “No, my Lord.”

  Neti stepped from the queen’s rooms once she had received the notification that Shabaka had arrived and wished to speak with her. She indicated for him to step a short distance from the others before addressing him in hushed tones.

  “I have no idea what poison they used, but it is very strong,” Neti started.

  “Will she be all right?”

  “It is difficult to say. She may have had a few doses of it already.”

  “And the pharaoh?”

  “He is with her now. They are talking,” Neti reassured him.

  “Can you not give her something for it?”

  “Nakhtpaaten and I have looked at various herbal combinations already, and as soon as dawn breaks I will go out and look for whatever herbs I can find.”

  Just then, movement farther down the passage drew their attention. At the sight of the man, Shabaka immediately tensed, saying, “Your boyfriend is here.”

  Neti looked at him and frowned, countering, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  Shabaka just looked at her in disbelief.

  “He’s not; we just enjoy spending time together, like we used to.”

  Neferronpet closed the distance between himself, Neti, and Shabaka, and Neti could already see the frown forming on the man’s forehead.

  “Are you all right?” he questioned as he came to a halt next to Neti.

  “Yes. It appears that only the queen was poisoned. The healer has given her something to help her relax, and I requested to be taken to the herb gardens in the morning.”

  “Any idea who might have done it?” Neferronpet asked, looking past Neti at the door.

  Before Neti could answer, Nakhtpaaten stepped out of the queen’s chamber and looked at the small group gathered together, indicating the vizier to follow him.

  “I don’t want to stir up any trouble, and it might be nothing,” Nakhtpaaten started hesitantly, “but I thought you should know, since it is one of the areas you manage.”

  “What is it, Nakhtpaaten,” Neferronpet asked impatiently, periodically glancing sideways at Shabaka and Neti, noticing their hushed, somewhat heated exchange of words in his absence. Both of their bodies were rigid.

  “Not too long ago, Homer, the court scribe was updating the scrolls. And one of them was a scroll on poisons,” Nakhtpaaten started. “He spent some time with me as we went over the various different poisons.”

  “So you think he could be behind this,” Neferronpet started, pointing toward Shabaka and Neti. “You should be telling this to them. They will be doing the hunting, not me.”

  “Oh, no, Homer would not do such a thing. He has no contact with the kitchens. He does not even move into that part of the palace. Besides, he would never wish the queen any harm.”

  “Then why tell me?”

  “You should have the scribes go through the scrolls and search for the one about poisons. It is very detailed, and whoever has it could manufacture any of the poisons listed,” the old healer concluded.

  Neferronpet inclined his head in agreement. “I will look into it in the morning. How is the queen?”

  “She is a strong woman; she should make a full resurgence, given enough rest and good food.”

  “And the pharaoh?”

  “He is angry.”

  5

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, one of the queen’s chambermaids accompanied Neti to the palace’s herb garden. Neti was uncertain whether she would even find the plants she needed, for her knowledge of the area’s horticulture was nonexistent, and the herbs she sought were not commonly grown in herb gardens. She had hoped to speak with some of the local women who worked the lands, those who knew where she could find the plants she needed. Her simple request had been met, however, with utter disbelief and sheer resistance, along with a pronouncement that the palace’s herb garden grew every known medicinal plant in Egypt.

  Neti strongly doubted that but hoped she would find the plants she sought, and followed the young servant, Thea, along the palace corridors, past the kitchens, and through a series of courtyards before they finally passed through a large pylon marking the entrance of the herb gardens.

 
Thea halted before a lean man with strong facial features. His skin glowed darkly, confirming that he worked outdoors.

  “Dedi, this is Neti-Kerty. She is on an errand for the queen,” Thea introduced them.

  The man turned to look at Neti, giving her the once-over before firmly demanding, “What is it? I am a busy man.”

  Neti swallowed visibly before speaking up, “Both the pharaoh and the healer assured me you would be able to help me procure some herbs to ease the queen’s ailments.”

  At the mention of the queen, the man stood upright and looked almost taken aback. “For once, someone has come to see me instead of consulting that old woman.”

  “Which old woman?” Neti asked in confusion.

  The man looked at her for a moment, almost as if he could not believe her question, but irritably replied, “That old nursemaid who potters around with the princess. Heaven alone knows why; the girl is fully grown and no longer needs the supervision of her nursemaid.”

  Neti tilted her head and felt a frown form on her brow. “Why would I want to consult her?”

  The man lifted an eyebrow and remained silent for a moment, contemplating, before answering, “She claims to know plants,” he scoffed, “but only those involved with women’s troubles.”

  “I doubt she has ever needed to use any other,” Neti replied calmly. “I would expect a nursemaid to understand women’s troubles.”

  The man looked at her with respect and smiled before nodding. “That is also true. You’re the embalmer’s daughter who works with the pharaoh’s prefect.”

  Neti inclined her head firmly, answering, “Yes, I am.”

  “Then you will be familiar with the collection of herbs and appreciate a good garden,” the man replied, gesturing with a sweep of his hand for her to accompany him. “I was about to do the rounds, you can accompany me and explain what it is you seek.”

  Neti’s breath caught as they entered the extensive herb garden, by far the largest and most diverse she had ever seen. Even all the small gardens in Thebes did not house the variety of plants found there.

  There were numerous slaves from various heritages industriously tending to their plants, watering, weeding, and in some instances working litter into newly prepared beds.

  “Every known medicinal plant is grown here, including those found in the Hittite kingdom. The plants are tended to by someone from that region to ensure proper care. The locals best understand the plants’ needs and how to make them flourish,” Dedi said as they moved along the herb beds.

  Neti looked over the plants, nodding as they systematically moved through the garden. She recognized many of them but had never before seen foliage as green and healthy. She stopped for a moment to touch the leaf of a plant. It felt cool to the touch, the leaf firm under her fingers as she rubbed it. She lifted her fingers to her nose to smell the strong, pure scent the plant released, filling her lungs with it. The smell reminded her of home, of her mother collecting herds to use for dinner. A vice settled around her heart, and she shook her head to clear it.

  “The garden is divided,” Dedi continued, “with certain types of plants kept well away from others. The slaves carry soil up from the riverbed and work it into the ground with the litter from the chickens and ducks. In other parts we use the litter from the horses or oxen, depending on the plant. The utmost care is taken to ensure that their soil requirements are kept as close to their natural environments as possible, and care is taken to ensure that they are not overwatered or receiving too much or too little litter. Then, once we have harvested all of the plants in a bed, the remaining parts of the plants are pulled from the soil and placed on top of the bed until they have dried. Before replanting commences, they are broken up and worked back into the soil, litter is added, and the soil is turned.”

  Neti nodded as they moved along the garden, noting the flourishing of many herbs she had often spent hours looking for only to find a few scant leaves. The leaves were nearly thrice the size of those found naturally.

  “The plants needed in greater numbers we grow in fields beyond the palace walls. We also have a few newer additions we are trying to cultivate, but they are exceedingly difficult to propagate away from their natural habitats.”

  Neti looked at the people working in the garden, having noticed that many were humming or singing as they went about their work. “How many people do you have working here?” she asked, looking about.

  “Daily, there are thirty.”

  “And they have access to all the plants?” Neti asked, looking about the vast garden, still incapable of believing her eyes.

  “Why do you ask?” Dedi asked, suddenly coming to a halt and turning to look at her.

  “I have noticed some of the more hazardous herbs and wondered if anyone could collect plants.”

  “We grow herbs only for the kitchens and the healers, but they have to apply to the supply store for herbs; they are not allowed to wander the garden unattended. Why do you ask?”

  “The queen has been poisoned, we don’t know with what, but with such a vast garden it would not be difficult for someone who knew their way around to find suitable herbs.”

  “The more potent medicinal herbs and plants are kept in a separate garden. We grow most of the herbs for the houses of life. Many of those herbs are difficult to grow and require careful harvesting, so anyone who enters that garden is searched upon exiting.”

  “And no one has been in there or harvested any herbs lately?” Neti asked calmly.

  “No. Only I and my senior assistant may harvest,” Dedi quickly and firmly replied, and then demanded, “What are you implying?”

  “I’m trying to determine what kind of poison the queen could have been given; she complains of a fiery stomach, especially after drinking something.”

  “I do not know of any plant or combination of plants that causes that.”

  “I see,” Neti replied, thinking for a moment. “I need something to ease the pain and discomfort. My mother always gave me purple milkweed for stomach pains, but I do not know if it would be suitable.”

  Dedi stood for a moment, deep in thought. “If it is only her stomach that ails her, it should work. We have some here, but you will need to ask Syra in the storerooms for some. Add some ginger root to her tea; it will help clean her blood.”

  Dedi struck off again. “Come, I shall walk you to the storeroom. Thea can show you the way back.”

  Neti entered the storage room and was amazed by the array of scents that assailed her. The walls were lined with earthenware jars, each with inscriptions to indicate the contents. From the roof, branches and bushels of herbs had been hung to dry. Dedi made quick introductions and then excused himself, citing a need to supervise the preparations of several new herb beds.

  Syra looked after him for a few moments, her sharp features softening slightly, before turning her gaze upon Neti, looking her over before turning her attention toward the slave next to her. “You must be here for Princess Ri-Hanna’s tea mixture,” she spoke in a firm, cold voice.

  The slave girl looked about uncertainly, then glanced at Neti before answering, “I may as well take it, seeing that the old woman is not here and it is almost time.”

  Syra reached under the counter and extracted a sachet containing a mixture of herbs. “Make a strong brew using five pinches of the herb and have her drink a cup every morning and evening for five days. She knows the routine already.”

  Neti watched as the slave girl quickly tucked the herbs into her sash, appearing very nervous and uncertain.

  “What is in the bag?” Neti asked, indicating toward the slave girl.

  “It is the princess’ usual tea mixture. She receives it every month. The nursemaid usually comes to collect it herself, but I have not seen her yet,” Syra replied dismissively.

  “What is in it?” Neti asked.

  One of the woman’s eyebrows shot up, looking Neti over again before haughtily answering, “It is a mixture of cotton root bark, cut-up gin
ger root, and purple milkweed.”

  “But that would prevent her from—” Neti started, only to be cut off by the woman’s voice.

  “It is well known that the princess is willful when it comes to such matters and that she has taken a lover without her father’s knowledge; we cannot allow the dishonor that would mark the pharaoh’s home were she to be found with child.”

  Neti just looked at the woman and then asked outright, “Has this mixture ever been given to the queen?”

  The woman looked utterly taken aback, almost as though Neti had slapped her. Her eyes narrowed before she replied, “Heavens, no; she receives fresh nettle and red clover tea daily.” Syra looked Neti over once again. “Aren’t you that embalmer woman from Thebes, the one with the prefect?” Her tone changed somewhat, warming, even, as she spoke.

  Neti nodded, adding, “I need some purple milkweed and ginger root for the queen.”

  “You should give her some nettle tea if you’re going to give her ginger root, it will help soothe the pains,” the woman replied, turning from her to gather the herbs, her voice more courteous than it had been at first.

  Neti stepped out of the storeroom and gazed out over the extensive garden, watching the slaves at work, checking to see if any glanced her way or seemed uncomfortable by her presence. However, none seemed to give her presence even a moment’s consideration, and they calmly continued with their work.

  Thea joined her, handing her a satchel of individually packaged herbs, and they slowly made their way to the pylon. Before stepping into the passageway, Neti turned to look over the garden once more, for a moment feeling as if someone’s eyes were on her; however, none of the slaves appeared to be looking in their direction, so she turned to leave.

  Neti returned to the palace kitchen and set about preparing some tea for the queen before going to the queen’s chambers. Nakhtpaaten was still there, impatiently pacing the room, muttering to himself as he periodically glanced at the resting queen. His attention immediately turned to Neti when the door opened to reveal her.