Moses looked from Shabaka to Neti, and Neti could sense his uncertainty at that, however, she was thankful when he did not mention anything of their earlier conversation.
Shabaka turned his attention toward Neti, “You should take a satchel, as we will probably remain at the way-camp for the evening.”
Neti nodded, while Shabaka returned his gaze to Moses, “The other workers will be returning to the camp also. We need the tools ready to go when we are.”
8
THE TRIP TO THE WAY-CAMP was completed in relative silence between her and Shabaka. Neti was surprised at the number of women who traveled along, most of them laden with food for their husbands. Several had engaged her in conversation, having explained that they would sometimes spend the night there with their husbands. That although the pharaoh ensured that there was enough meat for the men, they did not have the time during the day to bake bread or prepare proper meals. They, therefore, took some goods to them to ensure that their men did not survive only on meat and beer while away from home.
Neti could empathize, for since Yani had started with her, she had not needed to concern herself with meals, and she quick enough realized why Ma-Nefer had kept Yani in the kitchen.
Their arrival at the way-camp was mere moments before the tomb workers returned from the tomb. The small village consisted of a main path, with most of the mud-houses clustered together on both sides, also built side-to-side, like the main village, although a few freestanding houses were scattered farther away. Unlike the main village, that had walls to contain the village inhabitants and their livestock, this one was open. The scent of cooking food was absent, as was the smell of baking bread, and Neti was grateful for her forethought to pack some bread. However, the supply that Yani had sent with her was nearly depleted, and Neti knew that within the next few days she would have to draw some grain from the granaries, especially if she was to remain longer.
From the look of Panep, it was clear that their presence there was not welcome. He glared at them, as he demanded, “What have you come here for? To once again intimidate my men and to send more of them off for unscheduled leave!”
Neti looked about them, noticing the immediate attention their presence had drawn, not liking the foreman’s attitude. They were outnumbered and had none of the medjay guards with them. Being familiar with the hostility of people, she knew how quickly they could turn, and how quickly things could get nasty. She also knew that Shabaka, with his injured arm, would not be able to keep them at bay, if problems were to occur. Moses’s words hung heavy in her mind and she scanned the crowds to see if anyone in particular showed any indication of hostility toward them, or if it was just the foreman.
Shabaka stepped forward, seeming unperturbed by the gathering group, and replied, “No. We’ve come to return their tools and to speak with Nameb. Where will I find him?”
At his words, the foreman seemed to relax some; however, his gaze remained skeptical, as he asked, “You mean to say that you are done with them?”
“The test we conducted shows that none of them was used to kill Rawler,” Shabaka stated. “You did however mention that Nameb left for the main village that evening and should have since returned.”
There was a murmur in a foreign tongue among the men present, and Neti watched as Shabaka’s forehead creased.
“Is there a problem?” Shabaka demanded.
“You want to speak to Nameb—with her present?” One man spoke up, pointing toward Neti.
Neti saw Shabaka look at her, shrug his shoulders to indicate his confusion, before demanding, “What’s wrong with that?”
The man just sniggered, “You clearly don’t know Nameb. Don’t trust him within twenty cubits of any woman—married or not.”
Neti saw Shabaka’s body stiffen at that, and he spoke up, “We’re on official business, where can we find him?”
“Might be official to you, but with him—” one man started, but cut it short when he noticed Shabaka’s glare, “—if he back, you will find him and his men at their quarters on the far side of the camp.” The man pointed in the direction.
“His men?” Shabaka questioned in confusion, for he had been under the impression that Nameb was only a tomb worker, not a team leader, “I thought he worked with you.”
“He does,” the foreman replied, his tone somewhat strained, “But there are several men who stick to his side. He is a bit of a ringleader and a troublemaker.”
A number of the men present nodded their heads in agreement.
“Regardless, we would like to speak to him.”
“Oh, you’ll discover soon enough that with a woman about, the only talking he’ll be doing is to your lady friend.”
Shabaka started to move, only to be halted as Neti’s hand landed on his forearm.
“When we are done there, we will need to search Rawler’s housing, and we need accommodations for the evening.”
The foreman nodded his head, “You can have a look at it, but I think his wife has already removed his property. His house is that one over there.” the man said, pointing down the row of houses, “The freestanding one—you can also have it for the night.”
“Rawler’s wife has been to collect his stuff?” Neti asked.
“How should I know?” the foreman replied, shortly, “The women come and go as they please, during the day while we are at the tombs.”
The way he said it, had the hackles on Neti’s neck rise. Instead of saying something, she followed Shabaka in the direction the man had pointed.
There was a loud jousting that could be heard outside the home as they approached it. The home was in good repair, possibly one of the best in the small village, with hieroglyphs emblazoned on the wall. Neti stopped for a moment to read some of them and then shook her head.
“What is it?” Shabaka asked.
Net turned to look at him, “It seems that Nameb is a bit . . . conceited,” she hesitated, not certain if the word would actually convey what she meant.
“Why is that?” Shabaka said, looking at the hieroglyphs before him.
“He fancies himself highly important, well, important enough to capture his tales in the walls of his home,” Neti replied, gesturing to the hieroglyphs on the wall. “I would have thought these men were too busy in the tombs to engage in such self-aggrandizement.”
“Anything interesting?” Shabaka asked.
“Not really, well nothing really worthy, he considers himself blessed by the gods in all things . . . physical,” Neti improvised the last word.
“I see. Well, let’s go see if he is what he claims to be,” Shabaka replied, however Neti could detect the strain in his voice.
As they approached the doorway, a gangly man stepped out. He had a scar on his face and looked Neti up and down, before smiling leeringly at her.
“And what can I do for a pretty woman today?”
His tone caused Neti to hesitate, and an uncomfortable sensation settled in the pit of her stomach.
“We are here to speak with Nameb,” Shabaka firmly spoke, causing the man to look at him.
* * *
The man stepped closer to them, stating, “I will first search you for weapons.”
“What!” Shabaka exclaimed.
“No one speaks to Nameb unless searched, given recent events. One cannot take chances,” he said, before patting down Shabaka.
“You’re clean, you can go in,” he said, before turning to Neti, “I’ll keep your lady friend company.”
“She comes with me!” Shabaka instructed, the agitation evident in his voice.
“Well, this is one I won’t mind searching,” the man said, approaching her.
Neti stiffened, as he started to pat her down, and grew increasingly irritated when his hands started to wander. When he kneaded her breast for a second time, she’d had it.
A loud resounding thwack sounded as her hand connected with his face. She was not certain who was more shocked by her actions, her, Shabaka or the man, wh
o was no longer leering at her, holding his hand against his cheek.
“Get yourself a wife!” she seethed, her heart pounding in her chest. Her gaze shifted to Shabaka and saw his clenched fists and stiffened posture.
The man stepped back, accusing, “You hit me!”
“You should not take liberties,” Neti said, turning her attention back to him, hoping that Shabaka could contain himself. She knew how protective he could be, and the last thing they needed was a fight before they even got the men to answer a few questions.
“You hit me!” he reiterated.
“Yes, and next time I will have you sent for flogging. Taking unconsented liberties with one of the pharaoh’s officials is punishable,” Neti flung back, and then looking at Shabaka she asked, “Or should we have him whipped now?”
“I’ll happily do it now,” Shabaka said, his tone strained, but not as much as she had thought it would be.
Neti was not certain where the gall came from, possibly the invasion of her personal space and the cheapened feeling that had crawled over her at the man’s touch. But she found a voice within her, a stronger, more demanding and determined side that came to the fore as the man flinched at the implication—even as her stomach churned with nerves. “I might teach him to respect women and not take liberties.”
The man uneasily looked about him, almost as if he was looking for a means of escape. Just then, a chuckle sounded from the doorway, and a physical young man stepped forward. His face was finer than most of the others. His eyes shone with mischief, and he smiled. He was darkly tanned, and his body gleamed in the late afternoon sun.
“I have always liked a feisty one,” he said, moments before turning his attention to the man that had searched them. “Keisha, get out of here, this one has way too much spirit for you. She will roast your manhood and feed it to the dogs,” the man said, before turning toward them, “You must forgive him, he has been without a woman for too long. Although I could not blame him, for it is rare that one with such beauty graces our presence. How may I best serve you?”
Neti listened to the man’s voice, and although he was attractive, or at least most women would find him so, there was something in his tone that kept her at a distance, seeking to hold onto the slight bit of ground they had gained from her actions. She refused to be intimidated by these men.
“We’re looking for Nameb,” Shabaka firmly decreed.
“And you have found him,” Nameb replied, turning his attention toward Shabaka, “How may I be of assistance?”
“We need to ask you some questions involving Rawler’s murder.”
“Why, of course, you two are the prefects. I should have known. Please forgive me, especially because you have caused quite a stir among the workers here. Well, maybe not you . . .” Nameb said before turning his attention to Neti, “But your captivating companion here is another matter. I can see why men would seek to pleasure her and be pleasured by her.”
Neti maintained her stance, unwilling to give his obvious overtures a moment’s consideration or allowing them to sway her in anyway, “We have not been able to locate you since the incident.”
“Well, had I known that one so beautiful was looking for me, I would have made myself available.”
Neti felt her ire rise and fought to contain her desire to reprimand him for his conduct.
“Well, we are here now,” Shabaka deadpanned, “So, you can answer our questions.”
“Certainly. Join us; we were just discussing the past few days’ events.” Nameb said, inviting them into this home.
Neti stepped through the doorway and immediately felt crowded, not only by the male presence in the room but also their obvious ogling of her, some bordering on drooling. She swallowed and fought against the urge to turn and leave. Shabaka’s presence was the only thing that kept her in place. There were seven men in the room. She had heard woman speak of being in such an atmosphere and had found it difficult to believe them, or that one could sense ill intent. But, at that moment, it felt as if she could feel their every intention, something she had never before experienced.
She glanced at Shabaka and noted his rigid stance, his eye catching hers.
Clearing her throat, she was the first to ask, “Where were you the evening of Rawler’s murder?” She fought to maintain the upper hand, and from Nameb’s surprised expression, she realized that the intimidation tactics with the men were to lend her an advantage over a visitor.
“I had some matters to attend to, so, I would either have been on my way here or onward to the village,” Nameb calmly replied, then gestured to the men within the room, “These men can confirm that.”
“What kind of business?” Shabaka was quick to question.
Neti turned her attention to the men in the room, looking over their faces, noting their confidence and inwardly nodded, knowing they would lie for Nameb if he told them to.
“Well now, what type of a man would I be if I discussed my pleasures with strangers?” Nameb stated, although Neti only listened with half an ear.
“Especially because it might evoke the wrath of a husband,” one of the men present spoke up.
“Well, if her husband is not up to seeing to her needs, why should I pass the opportunity, there is great pleasure to be had in a woman’s body . . .” The comment flew right over Neti’s head, however, she could sense Shabaka stiffen next to her and returned her attention to Nameb, only to catch him perusing her body and the latter part of the sentence, “. . . especially if she is feisty.”
Neti looked at him and tipped her head, before flatly replying, “We are not here to clarify for such an accusation.” The firmness of her tone belied the trembling sensation that filled her body. Shabaka turned to look at her, and she could see his discomfort within the depths of his eyes and the rage he fought to contain.
Knowing that she was supposed to feel intimidated by their position, she drew strength from the knowledge that Nameb felt the need to intimidate them. It lent her strength.
“Well, then, my pretty, why are you here exactly? I can understand your partner’s presence; however, a woman in a city filled with working men, and many of them in need of the affections of a woman—there is no sense in your presence here.”
“We are looking for the killer; there is no other reason for my presence here.”
“So you say,” he calmly countered.
“Enough!” Shabaka harshly spoke.
The outburst caused both of them to look at him, as he firmly demanded, “How did you know Rawler?”
Nameb nodded at Shabaka, “He is one of the opposite team members, and one of the best in his craft.”
“Would you want him dead?” Shabaka asked, and Neti took some comfort in the more normal tone in his voice and again shifted her gaze over the men present.
“Why would I want him dead? He was one of the best at his craft, worked on both sides of the tomb, wherever he was needed. No one had any reason to want him dead.”
“Including you?” Shabaka challenged,
“You think I had something to do with it?” Nameb challenged, “Why would I kill a man I was trying to convince to join my team?”
“You don’t have a team. You’re just a worker,” Shabaka said.
“At the moment, but things change. When the position becomes available, I will be sure to have the best team.”
Neti listened with half an ear and found it difficult to believe the man’s reasoning, knowing that the only way promotions were made was when those in current positions died or stopped working because of age. For him to be certain, he had to know something. Just then, a thought popped into her head, “Was Rawler creating his own team?”
“His own team?” Nameb parroted in confusion, “Why would he?”
“You’re busy forming one,” Neti reasoned, extending her arm in a sweeping gesture to the men present in the room.
“Rawler was a dedicated worker, not a team leader.” Nameb affirmed, “He did not understand the complexi
ties of power.”
“And you do?” Shabaka questioned.
“Let’s just say, I know how to get people to come around to my way of thinking.”
“And that is why your name has been mentioned in my presence on several occasions,” Shabaka mused.
Nameb discounted the claim, answering, “Let’s just say I have gained a reputation over the years. Whenever something goes missing, or seems out of place, everyone is quick to point my way. I have been accused of robbing graves, removing tools from sites and—” with a snigger, “—seeing to the needs of women. I have come to expect that whenever something goes wrong that I would soon enough receive a visit from whichever authority was involved. Therefore, I expected your visit, although I’m not all that concerned about the matter.”
“And that is why you keep your group of followers close to you?” Shabaka said, turning to look at the men in the room. Neti’s gaze narrowed as she looked at one man in the group. He was physical, possibly one of the youngest there, and shifted some under her gaze.
“They serve their purpose. It would be more difficult for you to drag me out for a whipping with them around.”
“So they protect you,” Shabaka concluded.
“We protect one another’s interests. These are all honest, hardworking men, the best in their trade. We work side-by-side every day. And with things being the way they are at the moment—we should look out for one another.”
“What do you mean with ‘things being the way they are’?”
“It is not important,” Nameb dismissed.
“Then why mention it?” Shabaka insisted.
“Just tell him, Nameb,” one of the others spoke up.
Shabaka turned his attention to the man, “Why don’t you?”
The man seemed hesitant at first, but finally nodded, “It’s the foreman.”
“What about him?” Shabaka asked, turning his attention to Nameb.
Nameb waved his hand in dismissal, “We have this every festival,” he stated, “It is like a dray driver beating his oxen, in hope that they will pull a heavy load faster.”
The Curse of Anubis - A Mystery in Ancient Egypt (The Mummifier's Daughter Series Book 3) Page 9
