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

by Nathaniel Burns

  Neti thought over the list of names. She dismissed the pharaoh and Maathorneferure, along with Khay. She knew Homer would in all likelihood have been with the princess, though she knew she would have to confirm that. She looked at the men before her and tried to reason out why either of them would want to be rid of Khay. She shook her head; neither would have gained anything by his death. The only one who stood to gain from Khay’s death was Neferronpet, and he had been with a number of the other assistants at a beer house at the time. Djet had admitted to having a vested interest in Nebty, and the nursemaid’s dispute with the vizier seemed an unlikely reason for the man to want to kill him. And there was still the unknown woman who had lain with Khay that night. Neti was no closer to discovering her identity, for even Khay’s servants had been oblivious of the woman’s existence.

  She needed Shabaka to bounce things off of, for it was unlikely that the priest or his assistant had wanted the vizier dead. What little she had seen of Khay had given her the impression that he was respected. His only weakness had been his self-indulgence, which was possibly what led to the woman, and to his murder.

  Neti turned toward Ramesses. “Thank you, My Lord, I am done.”

  “That’s it?” Sahure demanded in disbelief. “Why waste so much time?”

  Neti turned to him and calmly replied, “I have learned what I need to know, that you will withhold information, especially if it places a suspicious light on you.” She turned toward Ramesses. “Once Shabaka has returned to duty, I would like to search the vizier’s home.”

  “With hopes of finding what, my child?” Ramesses asked calmly.

  “A means to identify the woman who lay with him.”

  “And how do you propose to do that?” Sahure demanded.

  Neti took a deep breath and slowly turned in the man’s direction before speaking, her voice somewhat strained. “Khay was a vizier,” she stated calmly. “There is a strong chance he could have noted something down or made reference to her. I will need to go over all of the documentation in his home.”

  Sahure remained silent. Djet was the one to ask, “So, are we done here?”

  Neti nodded.

  With that, the two men took their leave, and Neti turned toward Moses. “Come with me, I have an ointment that will help with your bruises.” She turned toward Ramesses. “If you will excuse us, My Lord, I will return to the training court at sunset.”

  “Yes, by all means, go,” Ramesses returned. “Just have one of the servers bring me a glass of wine. I feel I need some.

  “Yes, My Lord,” Neti replied before turning to leave the assembly hall. In the passageway outside the gilded doors, she came upon Kheti. “Where is the girl?” Neti asked.

  “That is why I am here. The queen wishes to see you,” the woman said, appearing nervous.

  Neti nodded before replying. “I’ll go see her now. Could you fetch the pharaoh a goblet of wine?”

  14

  NETI PURPOSEFULLY STRODE down the hallway toward the palace kitchen, her heart pounding in her chest, uncertain as to why Maathorneferure would call on her about the girl. A grunt from behind her caused her to suddenly stop and turn around, only to gasp as she realized that Moses had been attempting to keep up with her, his stiff movements and facial grimace indication enough that he was in agony.

  “Wait here, Moses,” she said, indicating an alcove between two supporting pillars. “I’m just going to see Maathorneferure, then I will be back.”

  Moses nodded, panting, his grimace easing somewhat as he rested against the wall.

  Neti turned and continued along the passage. On entering the kitchen she saw a small group of people gathered around Maathorneferure. She made her way over and gasped as she saw the young girl clutching her stomach and grunting in agony.

  Neti pushed her way through the group and sank onto her knees next to the girl. Instinctively, she reached toward the girl, asking, “What’s wrong?”

  “It hurts,” the girl wailed, gripping her stomach tighter.

  Neti was trying to draw the girl’s thin arm away from her stomach when Maathorneferure demanded, “Where did you get her?”

  “I ran into her on the street. She dropped the pot of food she was carrying, so I offered to get her more.”

  Maathorneferure looked at the girl in disbelief. “She doesn’t look as though she’s had a decent meal in months.”

  “She said something about someone being angry with her,” Neti replied as she managed to pull the girl’s arms from her abdomen.

  “Dragma,” the girl grasped, pulling her hand from Neti’s grasp, grunting again as she clutched her stomach.

  A gasp from one of the women caused Neti and Maathorneferure to look at her, with Maathorneferure demanding, “You know the person?”

  The woman nodded, hesitantly replying, “She has a group of girls that…” the woman seemed hesitant to continue, shifting under their gazes.

  Maathorneferure was about to insist that she finish when Neti concluded, “Serve men.”

  Maathorneferure turned to look at Neti in disbelief, then down at the girl, gasping, “At that age!” while pointing at the girl.

  The woman shifted uncomfortably while Maathorneferure fixed her with a hard glare. “The young ones are the resulting children, the boys are sold as slaves once they can work,” the woman tried to explain. “Some of the beer house owners send leftover food for them, because Dragma only feeds those who work.”

  “And so forcing the work on them,” Maathorneferure seethed.

  Neti looked questioningly at the girl, who nodded. Her grip on her stomach eased somewhat, and her body relaxed momentarily before again cramping up.

  “The pain comes and goes,” Neti said, more to herself, before turning to the women around her. “What did she eat?”

  “She had some flatbread and some of the beef stew we made for the evening meal. Ate quite a bit of it.”

  “Her stomach is not used to so much rich food at once,” Neti said, looking at the girl, who was still clutching her stomach. She turned to the woman. “Run to the herb store and ask Syra for a tea mixture for an ailing stomach.

  The woman nodded and took off at a run, and Neti turned to look at one of the others, instructing, “Bring us one of the wrapping stones.” The woman nodded and headed off to the fire.

  “A wrapping stone? What good would that do?” Maathorneferure asked confusedly.

  “The warmth helps soothe the cramps,” Neti replied, then looked after the woman.

  She took the smooth, cloth-wrapped stone from the woman and handed it to the girl. “Keep it on your stomach for as long as you can tolerate it.”

  The girl took it and pressed it against her abdomen while Neti looked up. “We will have to move her somewhere where she can lie down.”

  “We have a small chamber off to the side,” the woman said.

  Neti moved out of the way and allowed two of the women to lift the girl. They slowly made their way to the far side of the kitchen.

  “What’s this?” Neti asked as they entered the chamber.

  “This is where the one tasked with tending the kitchen at night sleeps,” the woman replied, as they laid the girl on a sleeping mat.

  Neti looked about feeling a frown form on her brow when she saw the wine urns in the corner and asked bluntly, “Is that why there are wine urns in here?”

  The one woman looked at her, obviously shocked, and then followed her line of vision. “Those should not be here,” she said, approaching the urns. She lifted them and frowned at the one she held. “Full? That is odd,” she said, more to herself, before turning to the others. “Take these back to the storeroom. I imagine they got misplaced in the rush.”

  The others quickly scampered to move the wine, and Neti turned her attention toward the girl, who gruntingly clenched the warm stone to her stomach, asking, “Better?”

  The girl nodded. “A little.”

  Neti turned toward the other woman. “Give her the tea and then let
her rest. If she does not feel better by the time the stone cools, come find me.”

  “What do we do with her once she’s better?” the woman asked.

  “Find her a place in one of the servants’ chambers. She is to remain in the palace,” Maathorneferure firmly instructed.

  “Yes, my queen.”

  Neti turned to Maathorneferure. “I have to see to Moses and then meet Ramesses in the training yard. I will be back to check up on her later.”

  “Do not concern yourself with the girl. I will see to her.”

  “Give her beer and bread in the morning. Oh! And keep a pot next to her bed; she could regurgitate the food she ate if it is too much for her stomach,” Neti said as she moved away from them.

  Returning to her room, with Moses in tow, Neti went through her satchel before extracting a pot of salve. Handing it to Moses, she said, “Here, this will help ease the aches. Ask the kitchen for some boiled water and a heavy cloth. First rub the salve into the affected area, then wet and ring the cloth and place it over the area until it cools.”

  Moses nodded in response and took the pot from her, thanking her before shuffling out of her room.

  The sun was just touching the western horizon when Neti entered the training courtyard. She glanced about, taking in the sight of the multitude of young men present, and noticed how many of them were nervously shifting on their feet. She purposefully made her way over to Ramesses and knelt before him. “My Lord.”

  “Rise, my child,” he impatiently replied, causing Neti to look at him and notice his scowl.

  “Something wrong, my Lord?”

  Ramesses looked at her and then out over the yard. “So many runners. I hope that man is not lying to me, for I will have his back excoriated if he is.”

  Neti’s gaze followed Ramesses’, and she listened as he spoke. “It irks me that such a command could come from my palace.” Ramesses turned to look at her. “I have grown used to those around me seeking to enrich themselves or killing those above them to gain power…” He halted for some time before releasing a disheartened sigh. “But to have my personal captain, my prefect, attacked; this I do not understand.”

  “It could be that we have gotten too close to uncovering something,” Neti reasoned, causing Ramesses to look at her, tilting his head.

  “Explain.”

  “When Shabaka was in Thebes, he said it took him months to discover how they were smuggling the gems out of the city. But within a few days of us discovering how they did it, a whole series of events happened in a very short period of time that led us to the guilty parties.”

  Ramesses nodded. “I hope you are right. I want to know who is behind all this.”

  Just then, the heavy door at the farthest corner of the yard opened and two of the palace guards accompanied the large Nubian to where they stood. The man walked carefully, his back left bare as a warning to the runners. Neti watched as many of the runners became increasingly uncomfortable at the sight.

  “How should we do this?” Ramesses asked, looking pointedly at Neti.

  Neti looked at the group of young men before her and said the first thing that came to mind. “Make them stand in a line.”

  Moments later, she heard Ramesses issue the instruction and watched as the messengers scuffled into a long line.

  Vadahar started at the end, stepping slowly as he looked over each of the men he passed. He was only halfway past when he indicated the man in front of him. “This is him.”

  “Step forward!” Ramesses commanded.

  The young messenger stepped wearily forward and looked nervously around him.

  “Did you deliver a message to this man at the quay?” Ramesses demanded.

  The young man looked at the man before him and visibly swallowed before answering, “Not to him.” He visibly shrunk back when Vadahar squared his shoulders, Vadahar’s face contorting as he did so. His action had the desired effect on the young messenger, who quickly added, “To his owner.”

  Vadahar’s hands made a fist, and he glared at the messenger as Ramesses dismissed the others. Only once the others had vacated the yard did he have the guards escort Vadahar and the messenger toward the far door.

  Neti fell into step with Ramesses and watched as the young messenger became progressively more agitated. When faced with the doorway, he seemed reluctant to step through it. Once through, he was gripped on either side by a palace guard and led toward the flaying pillar.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong!” he exclaimed, fiercely fighting against the two men who held him. Neti watched as they tied his hands to a loop and stood back.

  Ramesses stepped forward, glaring at the young man. “You carried a message to this man’s associate,” he stated rather than asked, and the young man hastily nodded in response.

  “Do you know what was in that message?”

  The messenger shook his head even before replying. “No, it was sealed.”

  “Sealed!” Ramesses exclaimed in disbelief. “And pray tell me just whose seal it bore.”

  The messenger looked from one to the other before replying. “The healer’s.”

  Ramesses turned a hard gaze at the man. “You expect me to believe that?”

  The messenger visibly cringed under the pharaoh’s glare before hurriedly answering, “We run hundreds of messages every day, collect parcels and convey news. We carry coins and such for any of the advisors in the palace. We do not question where our messages take us nor look at what they contain.”

  “I am well aware of what you do!” Ramesses flung back at him. “What I want to know is where that message originated, where you received it.”

  “From the message hall. It was in the box when I returned. There was a pouch of coins with it and I thought I might have to collect something for the healer, so I took my satchel with me.”

  “I see. And what did this man’s associate say to you?”

  “That I should tell them it would be done.”

  “You bore no knowledge of what the letter contained?” Ramesses reiterated.

  “No,” the messenger replied, fervidly shaking his head.

  Ramesses indicated for the whip-wielder to approach, and Neti watched as the man squirmed uncomfortably. “I swear, that is all I know!” the messenger exclaimed, fighting against his bonds.

  Ramesses turned his attention to Vadahar, demanding, “Is what he said true?”

  Vadahar nodded, and Ramesses indicated for the whip-wielder to step back. “Both of you will identify this Ghazeb for me. I want to know who engaged his services!” He turned from them and returned to the inner palace.

  Neti followed a few paces behind, rushing to catch up. “My Lord, if I may.”

  Ramesses halted and then turned to look at her. “What is it, my child?”

  “I would like to search the healer’s home.”

  “In hopes of finding what?” he asked tensely.

  “It is not possible for him to have issued such an instruction,” Neti replied.

  “You think I don’t realize that?” Ramesses angrily flung back, causing Neti to step back a pace, her heart racing at the anger she saw reflected in his eyes.

  His eyes distended at her response, and he drew in a deep breath before he spoke. His tone still had an angered timbre to it. “It is not your fault, I should not shout at you. You of all people would want answers to this, I imagine.”

  Neti nodded in reply.

  “I will instruct two of the palace guards to accompany you. Maybe you will find something that will help us make sense of all this,” he said before resuming his course, adding, “You’ll be happy to know that Shabaka is returning to the palace this evening.”

  Neti felt her heart leap.

  15

  NETI ENTERED the healer’s home with the two guards moving throughout the house, ensuring that no one was within its confines while she looked over the main living room.

  On finishing, the guard confirmed that there was no one within the home, and Neti t
hanked him before returning to her perusal of the man’s home. Everything was neatly arranged. It was something she had come to expect from healers and embalmers alike, both approaching their professions with systematic procedures, often to the point that they arranged both their homes and their practices symmetrically.

  She moved into the sleeping chamber and found the same. She opened his clothing chest and looked through the neatly folded garments, neatly repositioning everything before closing it.

  Entering the kitchen, she noted the absence of food and beer, smiling somewhat, knowing that the doctor would have eaten at the palace or a beer house. Then she continued into the farthest room, which she identified as his medicinal storage area. Once again, everything was neatly packed and sorted, the various pots and jars neatly placed with their identifying hieroglyphs. She quickly noticed that the jars were categorized by usage, not for their contents.

  However, as she neared his working platform, she felt a frown form on her forehead at the disarray that greeted her. She moved a few of the scrolls that lay haphazardly over the surface and glanced over several of the papyrus sheets beneath them before finally lifting one to read its contents. Some of the symbols and their combinations confused her. They were words she did not understand. However, she could make out the gist of the document. It was a record of some sort, describing a treatment the healer was recording. Her gaze shifted to the other sheets, and she glanced over them before lifting another. It became apparent soon enough that it was a continuation of the previous sheet she had read. She gathered together all the sheets and read through the first few columns of each before flipping to the next one.

  About halfway through the sheaf of sheets she gasped. She reread the contents, just to verify what she had read. Though it was not the scroll she had been told of, the sheet explained precisely how to make fiery poison. She looked the sheet over again, uncertain what to make of it. She compared the pages. The one containing the poison recipe differed somewhat in manufacture when compared to the other sheets, and she held it next to one of the others to compare the hieroglyphics, unwilling to believe that the healer would want to poison the queen. He had no reason to.