by Paul Doherty
There was a hiss of intaken breath. Senenmut would have leapt to his feet but Hatusu restrained him, one hand on his wrist.
‘I did not say,’ Amerotke answered quickly, ‘that divine Pharaoh was murdered: that was not the case before me. I ruled that the viper which killed Pharaoh was not the one found on the royal barge.’
‘But you also talked about the desecration of Pharaoh’s tomb?’ One of Rahimere’s scribes spoke up.
‘All of Thebes knows about that,’ Amerotke replied. ‘I speculated, as I have every right, that someone had a blasphemous grudge against divine Pharaoh.’
‘And Commander Ipuwer?’ Sethos asked. ‘How do you account for his death?’
Amerotke pointed to one of the writing bags hung on the back of a scribe’s chair.
‘From what I can gather, and this is gossip, the royal circle met here, yes?’
‘A fact,’ Rahimere replied tersely.
‘And Ipuwer brought papers?’ Amerotke continued.
‘Yes, he did,’ Omendap agreed.
‘And then the council meeting adjourned?’
‘Yes,’ Sethos said. ‘We collected our papers and put them into the writing bags. What are you saying, Amerotke, that while we all moved around someone took a viper and put it in a writing bag?’
His words created a spiteful giggle from some of the scribes.
‘There is a possibility,’ one of the priests taunted, ‘that the snake crawled into the bag.’
‘And there’s a possibility,’ Amerotke flashed back, ‘that snakes can fly!’
He ignored the laughter.
‘The solution is quite logical. If a snake crawled into a council chamber, or into a temple, it would be seen. If a viper had been on the palanquin of divine Pharaoh, that viper would have been noticed. If a viper had been on the steps, or in the entrance hall, of the temple of Amun-Ra it would have been seen and destroyed.’
‘Yet Pharaoh died of a snake bite,’ Rahimere said.
‘I agree. But how, when and why is a great mystery. I ask you.’ Amerotke swallowed hard. ‘Has anyone ever heard of or seen a human being, with crowds around him, being bitten, killed by a snake and the actual serpent never detected?’
Members of the royal circle murmured agreement.
‘There’s the mystery,’ Amerotke insisted. ‘And the same is true of General Ipuwer. Did anyone here see the viper which killed him before he put his hand in that bag? Any priest, scribe, soldier, member of the royal circle? My lord Vizier, if I may?’
Rahimere nodded. Amerotke got up and walked round the council chamber. He picked up the writing satchels where the different members had slung them on the backs of their chairs and moved them about, then gestured at Sethos.
‘My lord, you are the eyes and ears of Pharaoh. I have changed writing bags around. Could someone, as sharp and observant as you, now tell me which bag belongs to which person?’
Hatusu smiled. Senenmut tapped the top of the table.
‘On the night Ipuwer died,’ Amerotke said as he returned to his seat, ‘during the adjournment, the assassin, that follower of red-haired Seth the god of destruction, brought the viper into the council chamber in a writing bag. My lords, my lady Hatusu, go down to the market. Talk to the scorpionmen, the snake-charmers, those who use such reptiles to astonish the crowd and earn a few debens of copper. A snake can be carried in a bag or a basket. The very movement soothes and calms it. The snake lies curled. If it is recently fed, it is even more passive.’
‘Until Ipuwer,’ Omendap spoke up, ‘put his hand in the bag.’
‘Such a movement would rouse the sleeping viper to fury,’ Amerotke replied. ‘It would strike and strike again. Yet, would anyone notice or remember who had removed a writing bag from one chair to another? Or, indeed, if the chairs themselves had been moved round? Did anyone here,’ he asked carefully, ‘ever establish that the viper actually came from Ipuwer’s bag?’
‘No, no, we did not.’ Sethos pointed at Omendap. ‘You took care of the corpse and had it transported to the City of the Dead.’
‘I also took Ipuwer’s papers,’ Omendap replied hotly, his fat face now red with embarrassment. ‘But, at the time, I did not know what was what.’
‘Of course you didn’t.’ Senenmut spoke up, his voice tinged with sarcasm.
Omendap, supported by his commanders, would immediately have objected. Sethos intervened smoothly, wary of offending the soldiers whose support was so essential for Hatusu.
‘My lord Amerotke, you seem to know a lot about snakes?’
‘And about murder,’ Rahimere added spitefully.
‘My lords,’ Amerotke replied. ‘Death by snake bite is on the lips of everyone in Thebes. I have reflected on the stories. What I now suggest may not be the truth but it has a logic of its own.’
‘And your conclusions?’ Hatusu asked. ‘If, my lord Amerotke, you are correct, that the bags were exchanged?’
‘Then, my lady, the assassin must be in this room. You all know that. It was not a soldier or a servant. The bag was brought in here and protected by someone before being hooked over the back of Ipuwer’s chair.’
‘Continue!’ Rahimere ordered.
‘We know the assassin must be a member of the royal circle.’ Amerotke played with the ring of Ma’at on one of his fingers; he quietly prayed for her help, that his heart and lips would be brushed by her divine feather of truth and wisdom. ‘The next question must be why.’
He was about to continue when there was a furious hammering on the door. The captain of the guard entered, a half-caste Nubian dressed in a leather kilt. On the sword belt across his bare chest hung the emblem of the brigade of Osiris. He ignored both Hatusu and Rahimere and bowed towards General Omendap.
‘I followed your instructions, sir.’
‘And?’
‘I sent search parties out along the riverside down near the old temple. The rest of Amenhotep’s corpse was discovered floating in the reeds. The torso was naked except for a loin cloth and the armlet which identified it.’
‘There’s more?’ Omendap demanded.
‘Yes, sir. One of the soldiers, he trained for a while in the House of Life, was a physician. Well, the body was swollen and discoloured …’
‘It’s a wonder the crocodiles didn’t get it!’ Bayletos scoffed.
‘Amenhotep had been bitten five or six times in the leg by a viper,’ the soldier finished.
‘Have the corpse and the head taken across river to the Necropolis,’ Rahimere ordered. ‘Amenhotep was preparing himself a tomb. Tell our overseer in the City of the Dead that Amenhotep’s body is to be given proper burial, the cost will be borne by the House of Silver.’
The soldier withdrew.
‘The season of the locust,’ one of the priests murmured. ‘Death and devastation. Sekhmet the destroyer now walks the Kingdom of the Two Lands. Chaos within, threats from without.’
As if to echo his words the sunlight faded, as clouds covered the setting sun. Amerotke wondered if the priest was telling them the truth. He recalled the stories his grandmother had told him. How every day Amun-Ra rode across the sky in his golden chariot. At night the sun god entered the Duat, the underworld where his great adversary the formidable snake god Apep waited to destroy him. Was that about to happen now, Amerotke wondered? Would these murders by viper turn the Two Lands into a theatre of destruction and bloodshed, like those nightmare years when the Theban kings had struggled to drive out the Hyksos?
‘We all grieve for Amenhotep.’ Hatusu spoke up. ‘But, my lord Amerotke, you have not finished?’
‘No, no, I haven’t.’ Amerotke pushed the table from him. ‘We have three deaths: two are certainly murders. All apparently caused by a viper. We do not know who is responsible or why they act. So, we must turn to the victims and ask what they have in common?’
‘I think that’s obvious,’ Bayletos drawled.
He waved his fly whisk as if Amerotke’s words were irritating, something to be
wafted away. If Bayletos hoped to elicit the support of the Grand Vizier with his sarcasm he was disappointed. Rahimere was staring intently down the hall at Amerotke.
‘It’s obvious that all the victims, including divine Pharaoh, are members of the royal circle,’ Rahimere commented. ‘But what else?’
‘These deaths, and the desecration of Pharaoh’s tomb, all coincide at one point. Divine Pharaoh’s return after his victories over the sea people on the Nile Delta. His voyage to the Great Sea,’ Amerotke continued, ‘was victorious and splendid. Tell me, Ipuwer was with him?’
A chorus of agreement greeted his words.
‘And so was Amenhotep?’
‘What are you implying, Amerotke?’
The judge pulled a face.
‘Did something happen on Pharaoh’s journey from the Delta to Thebes?’
‘Such as?’
‘Was there any calamity or crisis? Did divine Pharaoh open his mind about what he planned when he returned to Thebes? Or, there again,’ Amerotke looked at Hatusu, ‘during his absence, did anything happen here in Thebes? I am only making a conjecture. I haven’t proof, even a shred of evidence that anything did.’
A murmur of conversation broke out. Senenmut leaned across, whispering to Sethos, who kept shaking his head. Amerotke noticed that Hatusu looked concerned, even frightened, lost in a reverie, lips moving wordlessly, eyes blinking. He recalled some of the gossip he had heard about Pharaoh’s wife as well as his own memories of the royal court.
‘Too sweet to be wholesome,’ was how a royal page had once described her.
Amerotke recalled the gossip that Hatusu had soon brought her half-brother and husband Tuthmosis II under control. Indeed, according to protocol, Hatusu should have accompanied Tuthmosis to the Delta but, instead, as a mark of confidence, he had left her in charge of Thebes, controlling the government and the city. Was Hatusu responsible for all this? She and that wily Senenmut? Involved in some subtle game to seize power? Control Thebes, the kingdom and the empire beyond its borders?
‘I recall nothing untoward happened.’ Rahimere thrust out his hands for silence. ‘Divine Pharaoh sailed down the Nile in the Glory of Ra. He stopped off at Sakkara where he visited the pyramids and the mortuary temple of his ancestors. He made offerings to the gods, slaughtered some of the captive princes and continued his journey.’
‘And there was no change in his mood or demeanour?’ Amerotke asked.
‘Divine Pharaoh was a man who kept his own counsel,’ Rahimere pompously stated. ‘He was not a man to chatter or gossip. He was pale, sometimes sickly. He said he felt unsteady, but he did suffer from the falling sickness. He was touched by the gods and, in trances, saw visions.’
‘My lady.’ Amerotke glanced at Hatusu. ‘Your highness.’ He emphasised her title. ‘Did your husband write anything to you in his letters?’
‘How Ra had smiled on him,’ she said. ‘How his victories had gone before him. How he crushed his enemies under his heel and how much he missed his wife and family.’
Amerotke put his head down. Hatusu had told him nothing but reminded the royal circle how close she and divine Pharaoh had been.
‘He was silent.’ Omendap spoke up. ‘He did not suffer from the falling sickness on his journey but he was quiet and withdrawn.’ He held up his silver axe of office. ‘But, on reflection, something did happen. Remember, we left Pharaoh shortly after the Glory of Ra set sail for Thebes.’ He pointed down at the scribes and priests. ‘Most of you, like me and his excellency the Vizier and my lord Sethos, were sent ahead to prepare for his arrival in Thebes. I cannot recall Pharaoh sacrificing to any of the gods; I remember, on the day he disembarked, some of the royal guard commented on that as well.’
‘But that is nonsense!’ A priest of Amun sitting next to Bayletos raised his hand.
Rahimere nodded as a sign he could speak.
‘I accompanied divine Pharaoh from Sakkara. True, he did not offer sacrifice but, there again, until he reached Thebes, he never left the royal barque.’
‘So, he didn’t visit any other temples or shrines?’ Omendap asked.
‘No,’ the priest replied. ‘He stayed on the ship, remaining in the royal cabin, though sometimes he came out to pray. Ask the guards. He often went into the poop, had matting and cushions put there and sat cross-legged staring up at the stars, hands extended.’ The priest smirked. ‘Indeed, divine Pharaoh, on his return to Thebes, was in a constant state of prayer. I do not know what my lord Amerotke is implying. I am one of the royal chaplains. I saw nothing untoward during divine Pharaoh’s absence from his city and court.’
Rahimere would have intervened but Hatusu abruptly rose to her feet. Senenmut and Sethos followed. Amerotke had no choice but to do likewise. Hatusu stood in silence. She folded her hands across her chest, the same gesture Pharaoh used before he spoke. It was a challenge to the rest of the circle. Hatusu was reminding them that she was Pharaoh’s widow, a member of the royal blood; ritual and protocol demanded that they all stand with her. Rahimere sat back in his chair as if to refuse the challenge. Omendap, however, grinned and winked at his commanders, who rose slowly to their feet. The scribes and chief priests followed. Rahimere had no choice. He stood up, taking his time, grasping his rod of office. He kept his face impassive yet hatred seethed in his eyes.
‘This talk of divine Pharaoh,’ Hatusu said as she lowered her hands, ‘has troubled my heart and grieved my soul. The council meeting is adjourned but it is our wish that the deaths of Commander Ipuwer and the high priest Amenhotep be investigated by the lord Amerotke, chief judge in the Hall of Two Truths.’ Her kohl-rimmed eyes blinked prettily. ‘He is to report directly to me. I and my advisers will now take close council with him in my private chambers.’
‘And the other business?’ Rahimere enquired.
‘What other business? There is nothing, Grand Vizier, which will not wait until the morning. General Omendap, are the regiments outside Thebes?’
‘The Isis, the Osiris, the Horus and the Amun-Ra are,’ he told her. ‘But the Seth and Anubis are bivouacked in an oasis to the south.’ Omendap played with the handle of the silver axe. ‘Grand Vizier Rahimere, however, has command of the mercenary troops which police the city of Thebes. I believe,’ Omendap added slyly, ‘they camp in the meadows and fields of the House of Silver as well as those of the temple of Amun-Ra.’
‘They are there,’ Rahimere intervened, ‘for the protection of the city during these troubled times.’
Hatusu pursed her lips and nodded.
‘For all our protection, Grand Vizier?’
‘Yes, my lady, for all our protection.’
The rest of the royal circle fidgeted, pretending to adjust robes or pick things up from the table. Nevertheless, they all knew the armed might of Egypt was now congregated around the city. The swords were being drawn. It was only a matter of time and opportunity before these swords were used, the royal circle divided and the city, the kingdom and the empire plunged into civil war.
‘It might be best,’ Bayletos suggested, his fat, oily face creased in a smile, ‘if divine Pharaoh was shown to the troops, taken in solemn procession through the city. The priests of Amun and the mercenaries would provide an effective guard.’
Hatusu smiled back, her upper lip curling like that of a dog about to snarl. She looked at Rahimere and Bayletos, trying to calm the turbulence in her heart. I know what you want, she thought: once the boy Pharaoh is out of the palace, the mercenaries and the priests of Amun will take him elsewhere.
‘Divine Pharaoh.’ She paused. ‘Divine Pharaoh will reflect upon your request but he is young and there is disease in the city. I think it’s best if he stays in the House of Adoration. Nevertheless, I heed your advice, chief scribe. The gods know we live in turbulent times. General Omendap, I want you to move an entire brigade into the grounds of the royal palace: its officer will answer directly to me.’
Omendap looked stubbornly back, about to refuse. Hatusu clicked her fi
ngers and Senenmut, pushing by the table, went across and thrust a papyrus scroll into the general’s hands. Omendap opened it, saw the royal cartouche and kissed it.
‘It is not my desire,’ Hatusu added sweetly. ‘But that of divine Pharaoh. His word has gone forth.’
Omendap bowed. ‘What divine Pharaoh wishes shall be done,’ he answered quickly. ‘Naturally, I will visit the palace daily to ensure my troops are in good health.’
‘You are always welcome here.’ Hatusu smiled. ‘My lords.’ And with this Hatusu left the royal circle, Senenmut and Sethos behind her.
The council meeting immediately broke up. Amerotke noticed how many gathered round Rahimere, whispering and murmuring. Omendap stayed away but two of his commanders were immediately drawn into hushed conversation by Bayletos.
It will be civil war, Amerotke thought. Hatusu and Rahimere hate each other. One of them will have to die.
If the troops were fighting, he knew what would happen. The crowds, the mobs who thronged the tenements down near the quayside, would run riot. I’ll move Norfret and my children, he decided. I’ll send them north, to sanctuary in the temples at Memphis. If the sword is drawn, there’ll be no room for justice in Thebes.
‘My lord Amerotke?’
He looked up. A page stood near the doorway, gesturing at him. Amerotke would have ignored such a discourtesy but Rahimere and the rest were looking at him, so he had to make a decision. If he walked away he would be the enemy of both factions. If he stayed, Hatusu would reject him and, if he went, Rahimere would mark him down as Hatusu’s adherent. He glanced at Omendap. The general made a movement with his eyes towards the door. Amerotke pushed back his chair and followed the page out.
Neit: an ancient goddess associated with hunting and warfare.
CHAPTER 8
