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

by Nathaniel Burns

  Ramesses visibly calmed and continued to the queen’s rooms.

  Not long after, Shabaka arrived on the scene with several guards and looked pointedly at her as he questioned, “Neti?”

  “I got here too late to do anything,” she replied, rising from her crouching position.

  “What happened?’

  “He was stabbed. It’s recent; the blood has not yet set, though his heart had stopped before I got to him. You will have to block off all the palace entranceways and check everyone as they enter or leave. Anyone with blood on their clothing or hands should be questioned, and everyone’s nails should be checked.

  “And you?” Shabaka questioned carefully.

  Neti looked at her clothing, noting the blood on it. She looked at him, challenging, “If you believe me capable of it, then question me.”

  Shabaka shook his head. “I do not think you capable of such a crime.”

  “Good,” Neti replied. “We have bigger problems, too,” she said, indicating for him to follow her. She halted a short distance from the others before she spoke. “The bag of slivers we used to test the queen’s food is missing, and I don’t know where to find more.”

  “You think his murder may have something to do with the queen’s poisoning?” Shabaka asked skeptically.

  “I cannot think of any other possible reason why anyone would want him dead,” Neti said.

  “How is the queen?”

  “She seems better. Her stomach no longer troubles her as much, but I fear that without the slivers she is more vulnerable than ever. We need to find whoever did this, if only to find the slivers.”

  Shabaka nodded in understanding. “I’ll organize the guards. Let’s just hope whoever it is has not yet left the palace.”

  “Can you tell whether we are looking for a man or a woman?”

  Neti looked over at Nakhtpaaten’s body, then back at Shabaka. “It’s a man. Even a strong woman would not have had the strength to hold him still and stab him.”

  “You want to come with me?” Shabaka asked.

  Neti shook her head in reply. “I’ll wait for the embalmer to arrive and help him.”

  “Keep Moses with you,” Shabaka said before leaving.

  Neti returned to Nakhtpaaten’s body and knelt beside it again, reaching out with one hand to carefully close his eyelids, murmuring, “Prosperous journey, my friend. I shall see to your preparations.”

  A short while later, the embalmer arrived with his bearers. The man stared down at Neti; his hawkish features gave him the appearance of a human buzzard.

  “Move. My bearers will take him,” the man commanded coldly.

  “I am coming, too,” Neti firmly stated.

  “Women are not allowed in embalming chambers,” the man deadpanned as his bearer wrapped the body in cloth.

  “That is a lie!” Neti challenged.

  “Well, they are not permitted in mine.”

  “She will go with you,” Ramesses’ firm command came, causing Neti to turn in his direction, watching as the pharaoh approached them.

  “I cannot have someone looking on as I work; their persistent questions distract me,” the man countered.

  “I am a certified embalmer; I will not ask foolish questions.”

  The man looked at her in astonishment and then shook his head in disbelief. “I have not heard of a female embalmer.”

  “I practice in Thebes,” Neti replied.

  “If you are what you claim, then you may accompany me,” he finally relented.

  Neti felt surprisingly at home as she entered the embalmer’s chambers. The familiar yet not completely familiar smell eased her longing. She glanced around the room, noting the neat arrangement of the man’s equipment. She could feel the man’s eyes on her and for a moment toyed with the idea of teasing him about the smell of his chamber, but she thought better of it.

  She watched as the healer’s clothing was stripped from his body and the blood carefully washed away. She moved closer to the platform and looked at the stab wounds on the body, tilting her head.

  “Do you want to help?” the man asked, dropping the cloth in the nearby bowl of water.

  “No. I will just watch if you do not mind.”

  The man shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Suit yourself.”

  “Do you have any papyrus and a quill?” Neti questioned. “I would like to make some notes.”

  “In the room next door,” the man replied dismissively.

  Neti made her way next door and collected some paper, a quill, and an inkpot, then returned to the chamber and made some sketches.

  A while later, the embalmer halted to look at her. “What are you doing?”

  “I just want to make certain I don’t become confused,” Neti said as she drew an outline of the figure and marked the stab wounds before taking down some notes.

  “You can write?” the man asked in astonishment.

  Neti glanced at him and inclined her head. “Yes,” she said, before returning her attention to Nakhtpaaten’s head, noticing the slight bruising across the jaw. “He was pushed up against the wall,” she mumbled, then moved her hand into position over the marks, lining her fingers up. “His attacker covered his mouth so he could not call for help and then stabbed him with his right hand. That makes the murderer right-handed.” Neti stepped back and wrote down her findings, then looked at the embalmer, lifting a brow at his astonished stare.

  He shook his head as he spoke. “They must train differently in Thebes.”

  “My father trained me,” Neti proudly replied. “I always took more interest in the cause of death than the embalming,” Neti said, moving along the far side of the room. “He’s roughly three cubits and a ra in length,” she said, and then wrote down the figures.

  “It shows,” the man replied, “but it is not important.”

  “It helps to identify a killer,” Neti said as she checked the man’s eyes, adding, “He did not suffer loss of breath. The cuts look like they could have been made by a khepesh dagger, though they may be too narrow for the blade, which usually makes a larger gash.” Turning to the embalmer, she asked, “Do you have any idea what could make such a wound?”

  The man stood closer, looking at the wounds. “A spear would be my guess. The strikes, however, indicate that the killer is highly skilled. A spear is not an easy weapon to master, and to push it in so deep takes power.”

  “But how could he have been held against the wall if his attacker used a spear?” Neti asked, to herself more than to the embalmer.

  “A spear would have been too easily seen. It is possible that the killer could have used one of those new, narrower daggers that have become so popular,” the embalmer replied as he continued his preparations.

  “I will have to speak with Shabaka and have a look at the available weapons,” Neti said, gathering up her sheets of papyrus. “Thank you,” she said to the embalmer before leaving.

  Moses accompanied her back to the palace, and Neti took a moment to take in the sights of the city in moonlight, trying not to think of the differences between Thebes’ skyline and the city’s.

  They entered the palace, only slightly delayed by the guards. “Moses, please find Shabaka and ask him to meet me at the queen’s chambers.”

  The young slave nodded and set off at a run.

  Neti checked on the queen, who appeared to be sleeping soundly, and breathed a sigh of relief at her improved color.

  A knock sounded at the queen’s door, and Neti gestured for the slave girl to leave as she made her way over to it. Opening it, she found Moses, who indicated the small group of men gathered there.

  Neti nodded and returned to the room to gather up her notes before taking leave of the queen.

  Stepping out of the room, she stepped to one side, having noticed that Ramesses and Neferronpet appeared to be having a stern discussion. Shabaka excused himself and stepped away from the group.

  “What are they arguing about?” Neti asked, indicating wit
h her head the pharaoh and his men.

  “The need for another search,” Shabaka replied, shrugging his shoulders. “You’ve discovered something?”

  Neti told him her findings and said, “I need to have a look at the weapons available in the palace, the ones the guards would have access to.”

  “We can go now,” Shabaka said, stepping aside and gesturing for her to precede him.

  “Neti,” Neferronpet called, causing her to turn and look at him before addressing Shabaka, “give me a moment.” She stepped over to the vizier.

  “Where are you going?” he questioned.

  “We are going to the training courtyard,” Neti replied calmly.

  “Whatever for?” he asked, his voice conveying confusion.

  “We just want to check something quickly.”

  “I would have thought you would retire after the evening’s events. It is too late for you to be roaming the palace, especially with this killer about.”

  “I will be safe with Shabaka. He has always looked out for me.”

  “I see. I will speak with you later then.”

  Neti nodded and then moved away from him to join Shabaka and Moses.

  “He seems possessive of you,” Shabaka commented as she joined them.

  “I think he is just concerned for my safety, especially since so many people close to the pharaoh are being targeted,” Neti started as they set off for the training yards. “I just wish I could establish the pattern, or at least figure out why this is happening. My instincts tell me the nursemaid has something to do with this, but I just cannot find a reason for it. There is nothing that binds these events together, and nothing that indicates that we are looking for the same person, or whether they are doing this for the same season. The vizier was close to the king. Nakhtpaaten was close to both the king and the queen, and the queen has been poisoned. I don’t know. The queen could possibly have been poisoned by one of Ramesses’ other wives, one seeking to become his primary… We will need to speak with them. At this moment, anyone close to the pharaoh is in danger.” She glanced at Shabaka. “That includes you and Moses.”

  “You do not see yourself as a target?” Shabaka asked, concerned.

  “I’m not known here. I’m a guest. I have no real ties to the pharaoh or the queen.”

  “I’m not so certain of that,” Shabaka countered.

  “Let us first establish what weapon was used to kill Nakhtpaaten, and then we can turn our attention to finding the nursemaid and the poison scroll,” Neti concluded as they entered the training yards.

  Shabaka stepped into the weapon storage room and took one of each weapon; then he carried them out, laying them on the ground in the circle of light cast by the torch mounted on the wall.

  The guard on duty looked on in confusion as Neti stepped closer, glancing at her notes and then inspecting the weapons. She quickly rejected the khepesh daggers and halberd blade. She studied the spears, checking the size of the blades, before rejecting the copper one.

  “This is close,” she said, pointing to a spear. “The width is within range, but if it was pulled out, the serrated sides would have ripped out the flesh, making it difficult to strike many times in succession,” Neti mused. “I think we are looking for a smaller version of the copper spear, one that would be easy to pull out again. If only I could figure out how a person armed with a spear could get past the guards and achieve this almost impossible feat.”

  “An almost impossible feat?” Shabaka asked, confused.

  Neti looked at Moses and instructed, “Stand against the wall.”

  Moses did as he was asked but glanced about nervously when Neti approached him with a spear. She stood in front of him and carefully placed her hand over his mouth, causing his eyes to distend.

  “Relax, I won’t hurt you,” she assured him softly.

  Shabaka’s hands clenched into tight fists, not liking the proximity she had to the young slave, who had also shown an increasing interest in her and her work.

  “Nakhtpaaten was held down in a similar fashion as I’m holding Moses. But somehow his attacker managed to land four blows with a spear.” Neti indicated the difficulty, touching the four areas where Nakhtpaaten had been stabbed. “The killer was taller than me,” she suddenly professed.

  “How do you know?” Shabaka was quick to reply. “Because even with the length of the spear I cannot reach the same areas on the body.” She demonstrated again, having set aside the spear. “The stabbing would have happened quickly, and if I do it successively my strikes are a tefnout too low,” she said, stepping back.

  “Let me try,” Shabaka said, stepping closer to Moses, his side brushing against Neti’s as she showed him where the strikes were to land. She watched as he landed them and shook her head.

  “You are too tall, your strikes are a shou too high… We need someone a geb shorter than you.”

  Shabaka looked at the nearby guard and indicated for him to step forward. “He should do.”

  Neti looked the man over, who was glancing about uncertainly, and then explained to him what to do. The man’s training and speed gave a more accurate result, his strikes landing almost in position.

  She looked the man up and down, finally stating, “You’re three cubits and an osiris in length.”

  The guard’s eyes bulged. “How?”

  “It is not important,” Neti dismissed, stepping away from them, her side still tingling where it had come into contact with Shabaka’s. She needed a moment to gather her thoughts. “If only I could figure out what was used,” she muttered.

  “The spear could have been broken,” Moses said hesitantly, his words causing her to swing around and face him.

  “Broken?” Neti questioned.

  Moses replied hesitantly. “It was just a thought.”

  “No, carry on,” Neti invited.

  “Any broken weapons from the training yards are usually sent off to the metal workers to be fixed or smelted into new weapons.” Moses stepped forward, picking up a spear. “The last vizier reported that the staffs we received from Byblos were weak. The spears kept on breaking, right about here,” Moses indicated a spot about a cubit from the point.

  “How difficult would it be to lay claim to one of those?”

  “Not difficult. All the broken weapons are thrown on a heap until the metal workers come to collect them,” Shabaka replied.

  Neti thought for a while and then turned to Moses. “Do you know if the staffs splinter when they break?”

  “Most do. Why?”

  “Blood may wash off, and a weapon can be disposed of, but if the killer picked up a splinter the marks will remain. They may have gone to a house of life to have it removed.” Neti halted and rubbed her eyes.

  “Anything else can wait until morning,” Shabaka said, stepping closer to her. “Come, I will walk you to your chamber.” He led her back to her room.

  7

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Shabaka could hear the arguments in the assembly hall long before he entered. The advisors had gathered around the pharaoh and were vigorously logging issues and backing their arguments.

  “I tell you all, it’s because she is here that all this has happened,” the high priest Ptahhotep declared. “Death follows wherever she goes. She must leave the palace and the city before she brings any further hardship and death to our people.”

  Shabaka entered the room and stood at the edge of the gathered group, his hands clasped tightly to control his anger.

  “How many more of us will have to die, my Lord, before you see it?” another priest said.

  “She is not responsible for any of the deaths,” Neferronpet said firmly, causing everyone to turn toward him. Shabaka felt the anger in him rise at the man’s familiarity. “She could not have known where the vizier lives, and the healer was stabbed.”

  “You, Neferronpet, only side with her because she has used her charms and cast a spell on you,” Ptahhotep bit back.

  Neferronpet glared at Ptahhotep and
drew himself to his full height. “I may be taken by her charms, and I greatly enjoy her company, Ptahhotep, but I assure you there is no way a woman of her size could have the strength or skill to stab a man, especially a woman who carries no weapons.”

  “She could have used her charms. Or are you that blinded by her?” Sahure taunted.

  “We established last night that the killer is roughly three cubits and an osiris tall and that used a broken spear,” Shabaka said, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

  “Then you will tell us who is behind this,” Ptahhotep challenged.

  “We believe that he might be working with the person who poisoned the queen.”

  “‘He.’ So it is a man?” Djet asked.

  Shabaka inclined his head in response. “We will be checking everyone’s hands for splinters.” Shabaka pointed toward the guards at the door. “You will all be checked as well.”

  “We will be checked!” Sahure exclaimed in disbelief. “We are to be checked, but you don’t suspect her of anything, when she was found next to him with his blood on her clothes.”

  “Why should I?” Shabaka challenged. “She does not know the city, she has no access to any of the weaponry or poisons, and she has no reason to wish ill on any of these people.”

  “I agree,” Neferronpet said. “I have spent time with her and she has no ill in her heart.” Shabaka fought to contain his rage. It was only his desire for Neti to be happy and the knowledge that she had chosen the vizier’s company over his that kept him from lashing out toward the man. His blood boiled at the man’s familiarity and his heart ached at the thought of the man sharing intimacies with her, intimacies he wanted to experience.

  “That is enough!” Ramesses commanded. “Neti-Kerty will remain until she and Shabaka have sorted out this matter.”

  The pharaoh’s command caused everyone to turn their attention toward him. “If you do not like this arrangement, then refrain from coming to the palace. This is my home and she is my guest; or have you forgotten?”

  Everyone looked at him in shock and then lowered their gazes.

  Ramesses looked at Shabaka. “You wanted to announce new precautions.”