Fall of the House of Ramesses, Book 2: Seti

by Max Overton

  I hurried to my room and sat on my pallet, thinking what I should do. My inclination was to flee the palace at once and somehow make my way upriver to Messuwy, and plead with him for protection. If I left now, it might be dawn tomorrow before my absence was noted, but then the obvious connection would be made and soldiers would be dispatched to hunt me down. Besides, I have no guarantee that Messuwy would protect me. Living within the royal palace at Men-nefer, I am of use to him as a source of information, but as a refugee, I am useless. I can ask on the basis of my relationship, brother of his dead wife Suterere and uncle of his son Ramesses-Siptah, but that is all. It is not as if Messuwy has gained anything by this assassination, Seti is Heir and he will soon be King, unless he plans more killing.

  What must I do to survive? The answer is plain, I must ensure that the connection is never made. The chain linking the courier that brought the poison to court, me, and Physician Ahmes, must be sundered completely. Ahmes is dead, slain by his own hand...and for a moment his action beckons enticingly. I have no doubt that if the king, the new king, puts me to the question to find out what exactly was my complicity, I will beg for the mercy of a swift death. Better to end it myself with only a little pain. Well, perhaps, if no other route can be found. Think, Bay, think, while you still have time.

  The courier that brought letters from the south and the fatal ointment has left Men-nefer, and by the time he returns he may have forgotten the particulars of what he brought. Even if he remembers he brought a pot for Ahmes, who is to say it was the fatal pot? It could conceivably have been any concoction brewed by anyone. At least, it could be any concoction until I am put to the question, then they will force a confession from my lips. So, how do I avoid that?

  There is also the servant who carried the pot from me to Ahmes, what was his name? His could be an inconvenient memory, and one that will be hard to hide. Moreover, I cannot rely solely on obliterating the trail that leads to my door. I must create a false trail that points in another direction...but how? I can invent another courier, another person from whom the poison came, but all it takes is a cursory investigation, a few pointed questions, and my duplicity is laid bare.

  The evening grew old and I was running out of time. What was I to do? Perhaps the answer lay in the task the heir had given me, ask the palace servants if they know anything about the pot of ointment. I knew where it came from and how, but they did not. Could I muddy the waters sufficiently to obscure my part in it?

  I changed into fresh tunic and kilt, for my others are sweat-stained and stinking. I donned my finery and the badges of my office, for I must command respect and fear among the servants, thereby deflecting any suspicion. After settling my nerves with a cup of wine, I made my way first to the wing of the palace where Ahmes had his room, where I found the servants who clean and fetch and carry for the physicians. I adopted my most daunting demeanour and addressed them.

  "Who is responsible for the rooms of Physician Ahmes, neru pehut to King Baenre Merenptah?" I ask.

  They looked at one another nervously and then pushed one of their number forward. He looked panic-stricken and tried to step back among his fellows, but they closed ranks against him.

  "Rem is the man you seek, sir," muttered one of them.

  "Only one?" I asked. "Do no others clean or fetch and carry for him?"

  "Dede helps sometimes, sir," Rem said, plucking at the arm of another young man.

  "Very well. Rem and Dede, you will stay behind. The rest of you can go."

  The other servants fled, leaving their two hapless fellows behind to face my wrath. I stood and stared at them for what must have seemed a long while. I have found that a studied silence can often achieve more than harsh questions.

  "So," I said softly after a time. "Which of you was it who delivered the pot of poisoned ointment to Physician Ahmes?"

  Both men blanched. Rem fell to his knees, arms outstretched imploringly, while Dede stuttered and stammered, protesting his innocence.

  "Come, do you take me for a fool?" I asked. "I have never met a servant who is completely innocent. I can see it in your faces that you are guilty of something. What is it? You had better tell me or I will have you whipped and thrown out of the city."

  "My lord, I...I am guilty of nothing more than...than taking a little medicine for my sick daughter," Dede assured me. "Perhaps a little cloth to use as a bandage, my lord, but soiled cloth that was being discarded."

  "And I a little food, my lord, but only scraps," Rem declared. "The dregs of the beer pot too, but everyone does that."

  "I do not," I said coldly.

  "No, of course not," Rem said hastily. "I only meant that...that..." He trailed off, looking miserable.

  "Forget such paltry crimes," I said. "I am interested in greater things. A pot of poisoned ointment was delivered to Ahmes within the last few days. What do you know of that?"

  "N...nothing, my lord," Rem said.

  Dede also shook his head, but then opened his mouth, hesitated and closed it again.

  I dismissed Rem to his duties and turned once more to Dede.

  "Yes?" I asked. "You were going to say something?"

  "Forgive me, sir, but I was only going to say that Semut brought a small sealed pot to Ahmes three days ago. I took it from his hands myself. He said you gave it to him, sir."

  I frowned, as if thinking hard. "This is the Semut who works under Overseer Mentu? You are sure of this?"

  "No, sir," Dede said. "It was Semut on Chamberlain Ptahmut's staff."

  "This is strange," I said, "for I have never employed either Semut as a courier. One must ask why he would say I had given him the pot for Ahmes when I plainly did not."

  "I don't know, sir."

  "Well, of course you don't. I wouldn't expect you to." I stroked my chin as if in thought. "It is plain that this Semut seeks to lay the blame elsewhere, covering up the guilt of one of his associates." I stood in silence a while longer and then I smiled. "You have done well, Dede, and I shall not forget you. Where are you from, that I might praise you in the proper quarters?"

  "From the village of Seb-ammit, my lord. It is in the west."

  "And your name, Dede, that sounds almost like a Ribu name?"

  The man essayed a tentative smile, soothed by the pleasant tones in my voice. "I was named for my grandfather, sir. He was once a trader from the western desert and rich, by Seb-ammit standards anyway."

  "Well, perhaps you will soon be as rich as him, Dede. I may need to summon you soon. Be ready to come at once. Oh, and say nothing to anybody of what we have discussed."

  I dismissed him and Dede left with his chest puffed up with pride. The seeds of a plan were sprouting in my mind and I thought I could construct another trail that would bypass me.

  I am a great believer in getting others to do unpleasant tasks for me, but sometimes it is best to keep things close to the chest. Semut and Dede were the living links in the chain that bound me to Ahmes, and I would have to sever these links, for Semut might well remember that I handed him the poisoned pot. Some men become fat when they have good food and are required to do little physical labour, but I have always tried to keep my body lean and muscular. That would serve me now.

  I summoned the Semut I knew and when he arrived, gave him some innocuous duty, and told him to meet me behind the palace stables at midnight, intimating that I needed his assistance in apprehending a spy.

  "Would the guards not be more suitable, Butler Bay?" he asked.

  "Why should they get all the glory...and all the gold? I have heard they are offering ten deben of gold for his capture, and I am willing to split it with you. Of course, if you don't want to..."

  Semut assured me he would be there, and hurried off about his duties. I sent for Dede and gave him similar instructions. They were both young men, but even youth cannot stand against a blade in the silent shadows. I waited for them, hidden by the night, and first one, and then the other, died on my blade and severed the link. I put a bloodied kni
fe in each dead hand, then cleaned myself thoroughly and hurried to the Tjaty, spinning a tale that would make me look good.

  "I made enquiries amongst the palace servants, my lord, and I think I might have found the culprit. One of the servants of Physician Ahmes is a Ribu by the name of Dede. In light of Baenre Merenptah's defeat of his people, maybe he sought revenge."

  "But why would Ahmes get involved in his revenge?"

  "I do not know, my lord, but maybe we can ask this Dede."

  "Indeed. Where is this Ribu now?"

  "I saw him leaving the palace in the direction of the stables, my lord, and bade Semut of Chamberlain Ptahmut's staff keep an eye on him."

  Tjaty Merysekhmet sent for the guard and ordered them to search for Dede, starting with the stables. They were back after only a short time, with the news that both Dede and Semut were dead, apparently having killed each other.

  "So he was guilty after all," I said to Merysekhmet. "He must have seen Semut following him, thought he had been found out and attacked him. Oh, it is my fault that worthy young man Semut is dead."

  "Nonsense," Merysekhmet said. "You were not to know. However, I don't suppose we shall ever know the full truth of it now that he is dead. I shall have the other servants in the Physicians quarters questioned."

  "I doubt you will find out more than I did, my lord."

  The Tjaty nodded. "You have done well in rooting this plot out, Butler Bay. Be assured that I will mention you favourably to Prince Seti. No doubt there will be a reward."

  "I seek only to do my duty, my lord," I said. "That is reward enough." I bowed deeply and withdrew, satisfied with my night's work. I had protected Messuwy and been of service to Prince Seti. Whichever man won out and claimed the throne of Kemet, my future looked good.

  Chapter 3

  Year 1 of Userkheperure Seti

  Messuwy's servants shivered and hid themselves when their master's temper flared. Even little Ramesses-Siptah cried and hid his face in the folds of his nurse's robe when his father stalked about the house in Khent-Min in agitation and shouted at anyone who got in his way or spoke to him. The eldest son of Baenre Merenptah succumbed more to the cold sweat of fear with every passing day, and wished that he had Sethi by his side to bolster his courage. It was fifteen days since Messuwy had given the little pot of poisoned cream into the hands of the messenger, a pot addressed to his late wife's brother Bay, and as soon as he had handed it over, his fears began. His imagination conjured visions of Bay betraying him, of the plot discovered, and the king's guards arriving to arrest him and drag him off to an ignominious and degrading death. As the days passed without discovery, his fear changed to excitement that his plan really was going to work, and with the passage of yet more days, to anxiety that something had gone wrong.

  By the tenth day, he knew to look for the passing of the royal barge bearing Prince Seti on his way to his tomb in the Great Field, and for the news of the king's death to arrive from Men-nefer. It was now the fifteenth day, and ominously, there was no news whatsoever from the northern capital. He had sent trusted men downriver to spy on the city but they reported it shut up tighter than a sheep byre with wolves about.

  "Nobody comes and goes, sir, but something's going on." The spy hesitated. "The Royal Barge returned sudden-like, sir, with Prince Seti aboard, a day after he sailed. I have that from a farmer what seen it. Don't know what it signify though, sir."

  Messuwy dismissed the man with silver and went off alone to think about it. Part of his plan had already failed in that Seti had not taken the bait and gone south to the Great Field where Sethi was waiting to kill him.

  What of the king though? Is he dead, or has that plan failed too? It could be that the whole plot had been discovered, that Bay and Ahmes were being put to the question and that soon they would discover Messuwy's part in the conspiracy. How long can they last? Should I flee before the king sends soldiers after me?

  The thought of capture, disgrace and public execution filled Messuwy with horror, and he at once decided that he would not wait meekly in Khent-Min for the king's soldiers. He would flee to Waset, consult with Sethi and the Hem-netjer of Amun, Roma-Rui, and together they would determine what must be done. Messuwy felt the claws of terror gripping his bowels relax at the thought. Sethi would know what to do, and so would the High Priest. The protection of Amun would fold over him, and even the king would hesitate to act precipitately.

  Messuwy issued his orders. A man was sent to ready a boat for the trip south to Waset, another to gather such wealth as his estates could muster at short notice and yet another by swift boat to warn Sethi of his imminent arrival. He debated whether to take his son Siptah with him, but decided against it. If he decided to make a stand in Waset, to claim the throne for his own, he did not want to be encumbered with a small child. Better to leave him with his nurse in familiar surroundings in Khent-Min. But what of Seti if it should come to war? Will he punish Siptah for my actions? The thought gave Messuwy pause, but he dismissed it as unlikely. No man wages war against children, and if I succeed, he will not dare.

  Messuwy slipped away as soon as everything was ready, taking his gold and silver, a dozen members of his household as a guard, and his hopes. The boatmen cast off from the docks of Khent-Min, attracting as little attention as possible, and quickly hoisted the sail, catching the north-easterly breeze. Fishing boats plied the green waters, but there were few other boats and certainly no messenger craft carrying letters between the two kingdoms. Messuwy urged the boat captain to greater efforts, handing over extra silver to have the oars used whenever the wind died away, and by the third day came in sight of the great walled city of Waset.

  Sethi met him on the docks with a large squad of soldiers and escorted him toward the Great Temple of Amun, where Hem-netjer Roma-Rui awaited them. Messuwy could not wait until they arrived at the temple however, being consumed by fear and trepidation.

  "What news? Did we succeed? I have heard only that Seti turned back to Men-nefer."

  "I know little more," Sethi replied. "My spies believe the king is dead, and Seti alive, but nobody knows what else is happening."

  "So what do we do?"

  "That is what we must discuss... Guards, alert!"

  A number of soldiers of the Amun legion trotted into view and blocked the street ahead of them. The men and women crowding the streets of the capital melted away down alleys and drew back from the armed men. Sethi signalled his men to halt and strode forward to confront the line of soldiers.

  "By what authority do you block our way?" he demanded. "Who is your captain?"

  A tall Kushite soldier with a gold armband and faience pectoral pushed through to stand in front of his men. "I am Captain Tarqa of the Amun legion, and I act under the authority of Tjaty of the South, Neferronpet. I have orders to take you into custody, Lord Sethi."

  "On what charge?"

  "That you did conspire with the enemy Ribu for the overthrow of the king."

  Sethi stared and then laughed. "That is nonsense. Now get out of our way."

  Tarqa rapped out an order and the soldiers behind him lifted their spears. "You will come with me, Lord Sethi."

  Messuwy strode forward to stand beside Sethi. "You recognise me, Captain Tarqa?" he demanded.

  "I do, sir."

  "This man..." Messuwy indicated Sethi, "...is a member of my household and as such is under my authority."

  "I am sorry, sir, but I have my orders."

  "From Tjaty Neferronpet, yes, you said. I am the king's eldest son though, will you disobey me?"

  Tarqa looked uncomfortable. "I have my orders, sir," he repeated.

  "And you are to be commended for loyally attempting to follow them, but blind adherence to duty will get you killed, Captain Tarqa, you and many of these fine fellows behind you. Must we shed blood to resolve this issue?"

  Tarqa looked down and scuffed the dust in the street with one sandaled foot. His hesitation encouraged Messuwy.

  "My man Sethi w
ill remain by my side, Captain Tarqa," Messuwy went on. "But you alone are welcome to accompany us to our destination. If the Tjaty convenes a legal court to charge my servant and can produce evidence, I will turn him over to you. Agreed?"

  "My lord..." Sethi muttered. "You must not..."

  "Are we agreed, Captain Tarqa?" Messuwy demanded.

  "What is your destination, sir?"

  "I go to the Temple of Amun to offer thanks after my voyage to his holy city. There I will converse with the Hem-netjer of the god."

  "And then you will turn him over to me?"

  "When a proper court is convened and the evidence of his guilt is produced."

  "I... I must send word to the Tjaty," Tarqa said.

  "Do so, by all means," Messuwy replied, "but in the meantime, stand your men aside for I mean to worship at Amun's feet and it would not be wise to interfere with his worship in his own city."

  Messuwy started forward, striding toward the levelled spears of the soldiers of the Amun legion. At a quick order from their captain, they raised their lances and moved aside. Sethi and the members of Messuwy's escort followed the king's son toward the temple. Tarqa quickly gave a message to a runner and sent him off toward the Tjaty's palace, and then trotted after Messuwy.

  They entered the temple precinct by the side gate, past the small temple of Ptah, and were met by a senior priest of Amun. The priest bowed and led them across the open forecourt and into the maze of corridors and rooms inside the Great Temple. Sethi instructed the guard to wait outside while he, Messuwy and Tarqa followed the priest inside. The priest handed lit torches to the others and bade them follow. Their footsteps reverberated in the narrow stone corridors and in darkened chambers and through dimly lit halls they glimpsed other priests engaged in temple duties or taking their ease. Odours of incense wafted over them, and sounds of low rhythmic chanting washed over them like a wave surge. Walls decorated by representations of the god flickered in the lamplight, making the images of Amun move. Tarqa's breath came faster and he made the sign of protection as they wound their way deeper into the temple complex. Finally, mounting a long curving staircase, they found themselves in an airy room atop the tallest part of the temple.