“That will not be needed,” Nameb worriedly said as two guards stepped closer, “Word came to me that there would be changes on the west bank after the festival.”
“What kind of changes?” Shabaka demanded, indicating for the guards to remain where they were as he stepped closer.
“Some management changes. And that once Ramesses’s tomb was completed, the teams would change.”
“And this is why you started assembling a team of your own?” Shabaka asked in disbelief, adding, “There is talk like that every time a tomb is completed, why then seek a team of your own?”
Nameb looked at the two guards close to him, swallowing at their menacing looks before continuing, “There was word that Panep would be removed from his position.”
“And you wanted his position?”
Nameb nodded.
“And this is all you know?” Shabaka asked in disbelief, “What of the men moving stones?”
Nameb looked at Shabaka, confused, “We move stones all the time, what men are you talking of?”
“Seems you know nothing,” Shabaka taunted, adding, “of any real worth.”
“We already know of Panep’s removal,” Neti added, not moving from where she sat, “The death of a worker in a pharaoh’s tomb, after the workday has ended, is indicative of carelessness on his part.”
“I knew of this before Rawler’s death,” Nameb countered.
Shabaka shrugged his shoulders, “This, the others have told us also.” He turned toward Neti, tilting his head some, “I don’t know, Neti, what should we do? We could always pin Rawler’s death on him.”
“Well . . .” Neti said, remaining silent for a few moments, “Seeing as he has little respect for women, I say flog him as punishment.”
“A very fitting punishment, I think,” Shabaka said, turning to the guards and gesturing for them to take him.
Nameb fought their grasp, finally shouting, “Wait! I know of a meeting.”
Shabaka held up one hand and the guards halted, “What meeting?”
“There is a meeting, soon.” Nameb said, fighting against the guards grip.
“There are plenty of meetings. Once we are done here, we are going to meet with the pharaoh and you with the whip wielder,” Shabaka deadpanned.
“One of my men, one evening, overheard Panep mention to a stranger that they will meet again at the Luxor temple on the fourth night after the festival.”
“That’s either tomorrow evening or the one thereafter, depending on how they count,” Neti said.
Shabaka glared at Nameb, and remained silent for several moments before turning to the guards, “Feed him and shackle him. He is to return to Thebes with us in the evening.”
“But I did—” Nameb started to say, only to be cut short by Shabaka’s glare.
“I cannot return to Thebes without someone who could be held accountable. You will be that someone. And if your information is useful, we will let you go. If not, you will be held responsible for the death of Rawler and your involvement in the valley.”
“But . . . But . . . I,” Nameb stammered.
“So, your information better lead somewhere,” Shabaka said, as the guards dragged him from the room.
14
CRICKETS CHIRPED AND FROGS CROAKED, offering their songs up into the still night. As a three-quarter moon cast its glow over the Luxor temple, casting long shadows in its various courts. A rustle of movement was periodically heard as the small group of select guards moved through the courtyards. Paired up, they remained within the dark shadows, seeking out any movement other than their own, but there was none.
“We are wasting our time,” one of Ramesses’s elite bodyguards said, “This temple is vast, and there is no way of knowing where this meeting will be held—we could have missed it.”
It was nearing sunrise at the time with the eastern sky lightening, and Shabaka turned to look at the man. His glance momentarily shifted over Neti, who sat with her back braced against one pillar, dozing. “It might not have been tonight,” Shabaka replied, “Or someone could have forewarned them of our presence.”
“Then we will never catch them,” the man professed, “These men are tired, and you insisted on no weapons, wanting to take them alive. But what good are a couple of overly tired men in hand-to-hand combat? We do not even know how many there are.”
“It has been a long evening,” Shabaka admitted, “Let them go and rest, the priests will be starting soon, as will the scribes.”
“And tonight?” the guard questioned.
“We will return, but more discreet than last night. The show of men marching up to the temple could have notified anyone of our intent. Today they must trickle in around sunset, dressed in their daily clothes.”
Shabaka then turned from the guard and knelt before Neti, his hand gently landing on her shoulder, shaking it lightly.
Neti’s eyes shot open, looking straight at him, “Is it time?” her voice was husky from sleep, but strong nonetheless.
Shabaka shook his head, “No, it is time for us to go. You will need some rest before we meet with the pharaoh this afternoon.
Neti nodded and allowed him to help her up, before looking around the area, stating, “No one came.”
“None of the guards saw anything.”
Neti looked around the festival hall and then to Shabaka, “Why do you think it would be here? There are many other halls and passageways where they could meet. The court of Ra and the hepisite hall beyond that would offer far more protection than this one.”
“This one is the one Ramesses built,” Shabaka replied, having wandered it on several occasions, “They are conceited in nature, their planning of Ramesses’s death reveals their sense of self-importance. They will discuss things here, in the shadow of his colossal, to goad their achievement, or would have if they had succeeded.”
“You are beginning to question whether they will show.”
Shabaka nodded, “They would have no reason to meet now, unless they expect payment.”
“Or plan another attempt,” Neti thoughtfully assessed, causing the guards around them to look at her in alarm.
“Then we have left the pharaoh vulnerable,” the head guard spoke.
“I will select only a few to return tonight,” Shabaka said.
Neti’s gaze moved to the two colossal statues between the southern pillars, depicting Ramesses and his first wife, Nefertari, striding together, and then she looked at Shabaka, “I think you may be right in your assessment. I can understand how you could think it would be here, for it encompasses everything he has achieved, what his rule had brought Egypt. Not to mention that it is also the most accessible of the courtyards, with four distinct entrances. It would make it easy to enter the courtyard from whichever direction and just as easy to leave.”
“Well, if it had not been for your observation, the priests of Deir-el-Bahari would be preparing Ramesses for his burial, along with Princess Ri-Hanna and many others.
Neti looked about the hallway, taking in the narrow papyrus bud pillars with their cylindrical shafts, then turned to look at the obelisk that stood near a small shrine, its alignment concurring with the passage of the god’s march toward the Karnak. It also marked the start of the journey that the shrine Amun took yearly with the Opet festival. The temple had an air of solace within it. There was an inherent calm within the hall of gods.
“Come, I will walk you home,” Shabaka said, striking off toward the pylon entranceway. Neti joined him, as they passed through the high walls that opened out to the entrance courtyard, with the entranceway flanked by three statues of Ramesses on either side, four standing, two seated. Neti turned to look at them once they reached the two obelisks that flanked the passage.
“He achieved so much, brought peace to Egypt. I hate to think that someone could revel in wanting to kill him,” Neti said, turning her gaze, moving toward the avenue of sphinxes that flanked the road to Thebes and to the temple of Karnak. The area was open and
with a good moon, one would be able to see someone approach from a distance. “Don’t you think it foolish for them to attempt this on an almost full moon. They will be easily identifiable.”
“No, it is easier to travel by full moon. They would not need a torch to light their path, and if skilled enough could move almost without detection. I will place guards in the shadows of every entranceway this evening.”
“I see,” Neti said, as they retook their path.
* * *
That afternoon Neti and Shabaka sat with Ramesses and his children, Ri-Hanna and Merenptah around an elevated platform. The pillows they sat on reminded Neti of the meals she had shared at the palace. Ri-Hanna was babbling about their plans once they returned to the palace. Several of the pharaoh’s advisors were present, vying for his time as they discussed the merits of leaving the following day. The pharaoh opposed this, as he had not yet had the opportunity to witness the young stick-fighters, and it would be unjust to their skill and dedication if he left without viewing them. Queen Istnofret seemed unaffected by the situation and seemed merely to tolerate those seated with them.
Neti was seated next to Ri-Hanna and reached for the figs, only to hesitate when the queen glared at her.
“Don’t mind her; she never likes it when Ramesses invites beautiful women to the table,” Ri-Hanna jousted, “Possibly because she knows she was not chosen for her beauty.”
“I have no intention about her position.”
“It is not her position she is as much concerned for,” Ri-Hanna countered, “but the attentions of my brother. He has not stopped looking our way since we have sat down for our meal.”
Neti felt a jolt shoot through her, having spent most of their meal listening to the conversations around the table, trying to assess if anyone within their present company spoke out of turn, and she had thus missed the young prince’s attentions. She looked toward the prince, who smiled at her in response. Neti returned the gesture, before turning her attention to Ri-Hanna, “She should not concern herself.”
“Ah, but it is more fun to rile her, and it is so easy to do. See, she is practically fuming for the smile you gave him.”
“You do not fear that she will retaliate?” Neti asked, surprised.
“What can she do? You are here as a guest of my father and me. Don’t concern yourself with her behavior; we don’t. Besides, we all know that you have no interest in him—your interest is with another prince altogether.”
“Ri-Hanna!” Neti chided, “I have no intentions on anyone, least of all Shabaka.”
“Ah, your head might tell you so, but your heart refuses to accept it. I could always have my father make it official,” Ri-Hanna playfully offered.
“It is not that simple,” Neti quickly countered.
“Yes, it is. My father can instruct anyone to marry.”
“I would not want him against his will or judgment. Besides, for all you know his own parents may have already selected his wife, just as Istnofret has selected Merenptah’s,” Neti said, turning to look at the quiet woman who sat beside the young prince.
“Oh, her,” Ri-Hanna dismissed, “She does not have the strength of character to stand up against Istnofret, which was why she was chosen. That way Istnofret will rule their household, with her simply providing offspring.”
“You are harsh,” Neti scolded, “You hardly know her. My father always said it is the meekest lamb that will take on the jackal it prompted.”
Ri-Hanna looked at her brother, and then said, “I could understand it if he cared for her, but he does not. Oh, he is fond of her, but he has more interest in you.”
Just then, Ramesses spoke up, drawing their conversation to a close, much to Neti’s relief. “I have arranged some wine and music to entertain us, and to celebrate the mercy of the gods in providing me with two such astute prefects,” he said, gesturing with his hands toward Neti and Shabaka.
The musicians came into the hall to strike up a song, with several moving from their seats to listen.
Out of the corner of her eye, Neti caught Shabaka’s gesture for her to join him and excused herself from her companions. She moved to where he and Ramesses were seated.
“We were just discussing events about the incidents at the valley,” Shabaka said, as she joined them. “You have still not told me what made you hesitate and stop.” Shabaka continued.
“Something felt wrong,” Neti replied, and saw how the young prince also joined the conversation, making her overly aware of his and Shabaka’s presence, especially because Shabaka had stiffened somewhat.
“It was good that you heeded that, or we would not be celebrating now,” Merenptah spoke.
Neti simply nodded in reply, and then turned to Shabaka, as the pharaoh asked, “This man Panep you have arrested, are you certain he is the person behind it?”
“He knows too much of the details not to be. We will wait for him to give up his accomplices,” Shabaka replied, “Several days without food and water will get him to talk, or else he will die, which will be no loss.”
Neti turned to look at Shabaka, a frown marring her face, for she had never before heard him speak in such a manner.
“I will leave it in your capable hands,” Ramesses replied, adding, “You must join us in this evening’s celebrations. There are some games to be held later, which I know you would excel at.”
Shabaka looked at Neti, smiling warmly at her. The action confused her. However, she returned the smile moments before he spoke, “If you will forgive us, my Lord, we have other plans for the evening.”
Ramesses looked from one to the other before he spoke, “Of course, how thoughtless, the last few days would have strained both of you,” giving Shabaka a knowing smile.
“I cannot believe you would allow such blatant displays,” Istnofret interjected as she too approached them, “and that between two servants you claim to be the best skilled.”
Neti did not like the woman’s condescending tone as she stressed the word, its meaning caused a shudder to run over her spine as the woman continued, “Such blatant disregard for culture, from both sides,” she scoffed, “A Hittite and a Nubian, who ever heard of such a combination?”
“Why would you consider it as such?” Ramesses challenged her, “There have been several similar allegiances in the past.”
“Allegiances that symbolized peace pacts. Look at your own barren Hittite wife, she was nothing but a tribal sacrifice. And she is not the only wife you have taken as such.”
Neti was astounded by the bitter spite in the woman’s words and fixed her gaze on the pharaoh, knowing well how he felt about Maathorneferure.
“Thus you only see it fitting as an allegiance, when it is for peace. But if one follows one’s heart, then it is wrong?” Ramesses challenged her.
The queen looked at him in confusion.
“No one, having seen these two work together, could question their dedication to their work and each other. If there were more people in my kingdom such as them, there would not be attempts on my life.”
The queen haughtily replied, “And not for a moment has either of you considered that it could only be his title that she is interested in.”
“Neti had no knowledge of my title until our trip to the palace, and even then it was by accident,” Shabaka countered, “by which time we had worked together for several moons. She had a skill that none other at the time possessed, a skill she willingly used to help me unearth a plot against our pharaoh.”
His words seemed to halt the woman’s spiteful remarks, and she left not long after that, not willing to spend any more time than necessary in such conceited company.
As they left the palace, Neti turned to Shabaka, “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?” he calmly asked.
“Implied that we had plans.”
“We do,” he resolutely answered.
Neti fell silent for a moment, her brow marring as his reply moved through her thoughts.
“There i
s no way of knowing who is listening and could be talking to others,” Shabaka spoke several moments later. Our case at the palace showed me that often those closest are the most likely suspects. I was not willing to take a chance.”
“That I understand, but we could only have excused ourselves,” Neti replied.
“I could not in a room full of people say we have duties this afternoon, and that this is the reason why we cannot join them. Everyone will realize that we have not captured those responsible, and if someone within the hall was listening, they could put out a warning. This way they will think that they are safe and proceed with their plans this evening.”
“That I understand . . . but you didn’t have to imply . . . us.” Neti said gesturing between them, her heart pounding in her throat as she awaited his reply.
“Does it concern you that they may think so?” Shabaka calmly countered, although his voice was strained toward the end.
Neti froze at the question, halting her forward progress, for she was uncertain as to how best she could answer such a question. For in truth, she had felt a certain trill move up her spine at the implication. However, it had quickly been replaced with a deeper uncertainty. She wanted it to be true, would not care if everyone knew it to be so or what their thoughts on the matter would be. She just did not want them to think it was so, when it was not. Her head contested the delusion, and she knew that if she did not answer the question, that he would take it to mean that she was repulsed by the idea. “There is no easy way to answer that question,” she finally said, moving her gaze off into the distance.
“Then be honest,” Shabaka pushed, “I will not hold it against you.
“I . . . I have no problem with others thinking it . . . if it was true,” she hesitantly answered.
“Then, it is the illusion you have a problem with,” Shabaka stated flatly.
Neti nodded.
“I see,” Shabaka said, again striking off along the road, leaving Neti as confused as she had been before answering the question.
The Curse of Anubis - A Mystery in Ancient Egypt (The Mummifier's Daughter Series Book 3) Page 15
