Princess of Egypt - A Mystery in Ancient Egypt

by Nathaniel Burns

  “What?” Djet exclaimed. “You cannot do that!”

  Shabaka indicated for the guards to approach, adding, “You will hand over any blade or weapon you carry on your person.”

  Djet glared at Shabaka as he handed over his dagger. “I want it back.”

  “You will have it back when you leave,” Shabaka said, while the guards checked the men’s hands. “We will also resume the search for the princess’ nursemaid.”

  Later that morning, Neti stepped from the queen’s quarters and inclined her head in acknowledgement at the guard posted outside the door.

  Her gaze dropped to the floor as she slowly moved along the passageway, deep in thought. She heard Moses fall into step behind her; he had been at her side ever since she had stepped from her chamber that morning. Neti swallowed the bile that rose in her throat as she clenched the few slivers they had managed to recover. She had no idea whether they would even work a second time round, but without them she had no way of ensuring the queen’s safety. The head cook had appointed one woman to see to the queen’s meals. She was to select the foodstuffs and prepare them, but there was no other way of ensuring that the queen would not come into contact with whatever poison had been used, or that her food or wine would not be intentionally poisoned again.

  “You look like you carry the entirety of Egypt’s worries,” a familiar voice next to her said.

  Neti took a deep breath and pasted a smile on her face before lifting her gaze to meet Neferronpet’s, replying, “It feels that way.”

  “How is the queen this morning?”

  “She seems better…She’s resting.”

  “Do you think she will endure?”

  “I’m not sure. She seems better, but I am not a healer. The pharaoh has requested for another to arrive.”

  “Do you think you could get someone to see to her this evening?” Neferronpet requested softly.

  “I could ask her chambermaid to remain with her,” Neti replied uncertainly.

  “I was hoping you would join me for dinner.”

  Neti smiled, her heart beating a little faster as she inclined her head. “I would like that.”

  “Good, then I will call on you later.”

  Moses remained ever present and silent behind her as she entered the kitchen. She could understand Shabaka’s concern and the reasoning behind appointing Moses to escort her but was certain that the young slave had other chores to tend to as well. She dared not dismiss the man, however, for she had no desire to incur Shabaka’s scorn.

  One of the servants stepped up to her and extended her arm. “These were all we could find. I have cleaned them as best I can.”

  Neti took the slivers from her and released a sigh as she looked at them.

  “What are those?” Moses asked, pointing toward the slivers she held.

  “I don’t know, but Nakhtpaaten used them to reveal poison in the queen’s food. I don’t know if they will work again.”

  “Why not?” the young slave asked.

  “These have been used before,” Neti replied dismally.

  “So why not get more?” the young slave asked, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Because I don’t know where to get them.”

  “Those look like the slivers one of the healers on the Hebrew side of town sells.”

  Neti turned immediately to look at him. “You’ve seen these before?”

  Moses nodded. “Yes, it looks like the one the herbalist grinds into a powder and uses on deep gashes.”

  “Could you take me to this healer?”

  “I do not know if Shabaka would approve of that,” Moses returned hesitantly. “I should speak with him first, and we will need something to trade.”

  “Then go speak with him,” she urged.

  Neti, Shabaka, and Moses set out for the healer just after the sun had reached its zenith, and they soon found themselves on the simpler side of the grand city. Unlike the grandeur of the homes that surrounded the palace, these homes were simpler, more like those in Thebes. Not much consideration had been given to symmetry, with the houses having been built alongside one another as well as the terrain allowed it. They had long since left the paved road of the impressive city, and for a while Neti breathed a sigh of relief, feeling more at ease than she had during the entirety of her stay at the palace.

  Children ran about in the dusty streets, calling to each other, playing with their balls and sticks, their mothers gathered together in clumps, gossiping. Neti’s spirits lifted, for no one there knew her or treated her with disdain; to them, she was simply a person walking along the street.

  Moses led them to a trading post, which had a striking similarity to the one Ma-Nefer had owned. However, it was only on entry that she realized that the outer appearance was the only similarity. Within the confines of the store’s walls, the shelves were lined with an array of mason jars and bowls containing many unimaginable herbs and oddities. Her eyes grew accustomed to the darkened room, allowing her to make out the various inscriptions on the jars, some of them familiar to her, but most foreign.

  Unlike the herb store at the palace, the healers’ store had an almost musty note mingled in with all the scents. No particular scent held dominance; rather, an overwhelming multitude of scents bombarded one’s senses, and it caused Neti’s nose to itch.

  A short, unshaven man with dark hair came through the doorway leading to one of the back rooms and looked them over. “Can I help you?” he asked politely.

  “Yes, I hope you can,” Neti said, moving forward and holding out her hand, in which a few of the slivers lay. “Moses said you could possibly help me with more of these.”

  The man picked up one of the slivers in her hand and held it close to his nose, sniffing it, his gaze thoughtful.

  Neti felt her eyebrows rise somewhat at his actions before she turned to look questioningly at Moses.

  “This one was used to check beer,” the man said finally, drawing their attention. “You are checking for poison.” He looked at Moses before turning his attention to Neti. “You are from the palace, yes?”

  Shabaka stepped closer to Neti as her back stiffened. His presence reassured her somewhat. “Yes,” she answered.

  The man handed the sliver back to her before turning and moving away from them. “I have some of those,” the man said, moving along the shelf. He selected an urn from the multitude and returned to them. “Though these are finer than the ones you have,” he said while reaching into the urn. “That means they respond quicker in the presence of poison.” He held out a handful for Neti to look at. “Also, you don’t need to use such big pieces,” he continued, wiping his work surface with a cloth before placing the slivers on it.

  “We’ll take those,” Shabaka said.

  “It is twenty pieces a deben,” the man announced, looking at them.

  Neti turned her head to look at Shabaka, who nodded, announcing, “We’ll take two debens’ worth.”

  The man smiled warmly and started to count out the slivers. Neti looked at Shabaka in astonishment but said nothing as the man placed the slivers in a small pouch.

  Shabaka handed the man the coins while Neti took possession of the slivers.

  “Thank you. May the gods bless you,” the man said warmly.

  Neti glanced around the post and Shabaka tapped her arm to get her attention, indicating that they should leave. She shook her head in reply and turned her attention toward the man. “Excuse me, sir, are you familiar with poisons?”

  The man looked at her for a moment before nodding. “It is part of my work.”

  “Do you sell any?”

  “No. I do not keep ready-made poisons, but I have most of the ingredients.”

  Neti looked at Shabaka before returning her attention back to the man. “Can anyone purchase these ingredients?”

  “If they have the means, yes,” the man replied calmly. “There are many uses for the ingredients apart from poison.”

  “Have you sold any such ingredients
recently?” Shabaka was quick to ask.

  The man thought for a moment, and finally nodded. “About a quarter moon ago I sold some yellow salts to Gazar.”

  “Yellow salts?” Neti asked, confused. “I have never heard of these.”

  “When mixed with natron, it makes a fiery poison. It’s good for killing rats. You soak some grain in it and leave it out for the rats.”

  “You know this man?” Shabaka asked.

  “Yes, he often buys from me. He works at the grain store at the newest building site. They have had some rat problems.”

  “Anyone else?” Shabaka asked firmly.

  “No, not many seek poisons. Most seek love potions and power elixirs, though I have had some recent requests for hexes.”

  Just then, another unshaven man entered the post, carrying a small wooden box, announcing, “I have Theos’ entry,” not even looking around him as he roughly set down the box.

  The man glared at the newcomer, demanding, “Did your mother not tell you to wait your turn?”

  The new arrival glanced at Neti and Shabaka, babbling, “Theos will flog my hide if I delay my return.”

  The man gestured to the end of his workspace. “Fine, place it there.”

  The newcomer quickly moved the box and then left.

  There was a scurrying inside the box, and then a few hard knocks.

  Neti looked at Shabaka before asking, “What is that?” as the man picked up the box.

  “A scorpion,” the man answered calmly. “There are scorpion duels this evening. I prepare some for battle,” he concluded, indicating the box.

  “You have scorpions here?” Shabaka asked in shock, looking about the post.

  “Yes, I keep them in the back.”

  “You sell scorpions?” Neti was quick to ask.

  “No, never. These are captured by their owners. I only prepare them for battle.”

  “Do you know of anyone who sells scorpions?” Neti asked, noting Shabaka’s unease.

  “No, they are too profitable in the duels. Their owners would not sell them because then they would have to search the desert for another, and it would need to be trained. Too much time would be wasted.”

  “Where are these duels held?” Shabaka asked.

  “Tonight’s will be at the beer house near the quay,” the man replied calmly. “Excuse me, I just want to go put this one with the others.”

  Shabaka looked at Neti. “We should go.”

  “I can’t, I have plans with Neferronpet.” Neti saw Shabaka’s jaw tighten in response before he replied, “Then Moses and I will go.” Then he turned to leave the trading post.

  Neti looked after him for a moment and shook her head.

  Just then, the proprietor returned, asking, “Would you like some help with him? I have a really good potion…”

  Neti just shook her head. “I think he needs to be hit on the head instead, maybe then he would see sense. Thank you for your help.”

  The man grinned at her, replying, “You know where to find me.”

  Neti and Shabaka had barely set foot in the palace before a guard descended upon them. “Prefect, you must come see what they have found!” the man spoke eagerly, gesturing irritably for them to follow him.

  Neti released a long, frustrated sigh. She already expected that this was somehow related to the discovery of yet another body and tiredly trudged along behind the guard.

  “One of the gardeners went to collect litter for the garden and smelled something, so he called the guards. We think it might be a body,” the guard started as they exited the palace and entered one of the many courtyards. Neti felt her heart grow heavy at the news.

  “They’re digging it up now,” the guard concluded.

  At his words, Neti felt a frown form on her forehead, knowing it was rare for buried bodies to smell because the ground usually dried them out too quickly, naturally mummifying the corpse.

  They arrived at the scene, and as she stepped closer to the men, the familiar smell of rotting flesh filled her nostrils. Its unexpected stench caused her to gag, and she braced herself for some despicable sight.

  The pharaoh was present, as was a group of his advisors, and he turned to Neti and Shabaka as they approached. “I think we were overeager in beckoning you,” he started calmly, causing Neti to frown.

  He pointed to the shallow hole the guards had dug, in which a doglike carcass lay. “It appears that someone has buried a jackal.”

  Neti moved from Shabaka to the shallow grave, looking intently upon the carcass. She lifted her gaze and looked about them, turning as she did so.

  “Neti,” Shabaka asked, somewhat alarmed by her behavior.

  “Where is the hen house?” she asked firmly.

  “Why is that of importance?” Shabaka asked as she moved away from him and the guards. Everyone’s attention centered upon them.

  “Those are stables,” Neti said, indicating the nearby structure. “It is about fifty cubits from here,” she said, shaking her head. She turned her attention back to the group of gathered men. “Where is the hen house?”

  “That side,” Moses replied, pointing in the direction of a distant building.

  Neti turned to look toward the grave and shook her head.

  “What are you thinking?” Shabaka asked, coming to stand beside her.

  “There is no reason for a jackal to be here. There is no food for him to steal. The hen house is too far from here for him to be hunting, and there is no garbage to scavenge, as well as no easy access to this part of the palace.” She turned once again and looked about her. “Jackals are frightful, timid creatures. They run when spotted. There is no reason for him to be buried here. It should have been skinned and the pelt sold, and the meat should have been eaten. Unless…” Neti suddenly stopped and turned toward the shallow grave.

  “What?” Shabaka asked, following her.

  “There is an old belief, but I have never thought it to be true,” she said as she halted next to the grave. “Check the neck for an amulet,” she instructed one of the guards who had been tasked with digging up the soil.

  The man looked at her questioningly and then turned to look at Shabaka.

  “Do it,” Ramesses instructed.

  The man felt along the jackal’s neck. Neti was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he announced, “Found it!”

  Neti felt her heart drop as she spoke. “It’s the eye of Ra.”

  The guard checked it. “Yes.”

  Neti closed her eyes, her shoulders drooping as she spoke. “There is a body beneath it.”

  “What?” Ptahhotep demanded. “How do you know?”

  “It is an old belief, one that is not often practiced unless one fears retribution from a spirit,” Neti started, and then pointed at the jackals. “Some believe that by placing a jackal in the grave of their enemy, the earthly embodiment of Anubis will guard against the person’s spirit returning to haunt or avenge their death. The eye of Ra is placed around the neck of the jackal to bind it to the body it guards. Whoever is buried there was in all likelihood murdered, their Ba trapped inside their body; it will rot as the flesh does.”

  “Dig it up,” Ramesses commanded.

  The guards looked at him for a moment and then turned to Neti.

  “The Ba will only haunt the killer, not those who free it,” she assured them.

  They nodded and started digging.

  8

  THE GROUP OF ONLOOKERS gathered around the grave and watched as the two guards reluctantly scraped the dirt from the rotting body, often gagging as a new wave of stench rose from it. Neti, had to swallow down the bile that rose in her throat several times. Even her familiarity with the dead had not prepared her for the stench that came from the shallow grave.

  Once the body was uncovered, everyone turned to Neti in expectation, and she looked at the decayed body, unable to make any sense of it. Drawing a deep breath, she dropped down onto her haunches and held her breath as she searched for anything that cou
ld identify the person.

  She lifted the amulet that was tied around the corpse’s neck, brushing her thumb over it to clear the inscription. No sooner had she made out the insignia than she heard a gasp and lifted her gaze toward its direction, only to see the treasury advisor’s assistant backing away from the grave and shaking his head.

  “You know who this is?” Neti asked, looking pointedly at him.

  At her question, everyone turned to look at the man, who visibly swallowed before nodding, gaspingly answering, “Yes, it’s Nebty, the princess’ nursemaid.”

  From his reaction, it was easy for Neti to discern that they had been close, possibly even intimate at some point.

  Neti’s gaze flicked over everyone present. She noticed their expectant gazes and felt a weight settle over her heart. A bout of uncertainty assailed her as she looked at Shabaka. Having hoped that her hypothesis about the body was wrong, her heart had steadily sunk with every load of dirt the guards had scraped from it. She had never before encountered such a situation and did not know what to make of the ancient ritual.

  “We should leave it as it is. It is cursed, and by touching it we will be cursed,” Ptahhotep said. He looked at Neti as if expecting a challenge from her. However, unbeknownst to him, Neti actually agreed with the old man’s assessment, but she knew she would not be able to help Shabaka find the one responsible if they did not examine the body. She also knew she could not leave a cursed body in the confines of the palace. Everyone’s gaze was upon her, and their expectation of her response set her heart racing. Their desire for answers and explanation sent a bolt of dread through her, and this time she did not have anything for them. She needed time to contemplate things, to process what they had uncovered and the implications it held for their investigations.

  A sudden nauseating feeling came over her and she gasped for breath as she rose and stepped a few paces from them, replying, “Do what you like,” as she stepped back, lifting her hands over her mouth in an attempt to contain her desire to be ill.

  She had barely gotten twenty paces from the grave when she felt a hand wrap around her wrist, pulling her back. Her heart’s pounding in her ears blocked out the sound of her name. It was only when her eyes met Shabaka’s and she saw his concern that she realized he was speaking to her. She had no desire to speak to anyone, however, not until she understood what had made her so irritable, why she suddenly felt uncomfortable in her own skin, almost as if she needed to shed it. Her throat felt raw from the effort it took to contain her emotions, and she made to jerk her hand from his, for his touch was scorching her, making her even more aware of him and of what she could never have. Another matter she did not want to contemplate, given the circumstance.