Minnakht sat composed, as if in shock. Now and again he’d look to his left and right, whisper to himself and stare up at the ceiling. Amerotke wondered if his wits had wandered, and realised how cleverly the Chief of Scribes had masked his true self.
‘Eventually,’ Amerotke continued, ‘you can present your defence. Until then you will be imprisoned. You have two choices, my lord. You may defend yourself, but I think you will be found guilty, in which case you will be impaled or buried alive out in the Redlands. On the other hand, you can reflect very carefully on what I’ve said and make a full confession. Your death will be swifter than those of many of your victims.’ He raised a hand. ‘Captain of the Guard, take him away.’
For a while there was confusion. Minnakht leapt to his feet and started screaming at Amerotke, then turned on Lord Ani.
‘Do you believe this, do you believe this?’ He turned away, talking to himself, his arms flapping like the wings of a pinioned bird. When Asural and the guards laid hands on him, he struggled for a while but then went slack and was taken quietly out of the hall. Ani, Hinqui and Maben, terrified at what they’d seen and heard, were ready to scurry out after him. Amerotke called them back.
‘One further matter. My lords,’ he leaned forward smilingly, ‘you were all present when Grand Vizier Senenmut spoke about the Memphite merchant – his spy – whose identity the alleged Rekhet assumed. You do remember? I demand to know which of you later gave such information to the Libyan chieftain know as Themeu?’ He watched the consternation on Hinqui’s face. ‘Themeu,’ Amerotke continued softly, ‘will soon tell us. He’ll be held hostage in Thebes until he complies fully with the Divine One’s request. It’s best if the priest responsible confesses now and throws himself on Pharaoh’s mercy.’
Hinqui burst into tears; face in his hands, he rocked backwards and forwards. The sobbing echoed eerily through the silent hall.
‘Why?’ Ani gasped.
‘He was beautiful…’ Hinqui whispered, taking his hands away. ‘I was stupid! I was trapped. He threatened me. I panicked. I told him what I knew…’
Amerotke summoned his guards forward. They grasped the still sobbing Hinqui and pushed him from the court. Ani and Maben staggered to their feet, broken men, drained of all arrogance.
‘My lords,’ Amerotke declared, ‘it is best if you wait outside until Standard-Bearer Nadif returns. Maben, I have unfinished business with you and your family.’
‘So you have, Lord Judge.’ Maben crept forward so as not to be overheard. ‘This morning Standard-Bearer Nadif and his Medjay came to our house. They took Lady Meryet into custody; they would not allow me to speak to her.’
‘Your sister is safe,’ Amerotke replied. ‘Now, my lord, I beg you to wait.’ He turned to where Qennu still knelt on the cushion. He beckoned him forward, took a small scroll and thrust it into his hand. ‘Take this to my house. The Lady Norfret will look after you.’
Qennu went down on his knees again. ‘Lord Judge, my gratitude to you—’
‘This is not over yet,’ Amerotke interrupted. ‘Until it is, you must stay with me. Minnakht will now reflect. Lord Valu’s men will question him, show him whatever evidence Shufoy and Nadif have found. Now you must go; other matters await.’
Qennu left as Asural came forward.
‘The crowds outside wish to come in.’
‘The crowds outside,’ Amerotke declared, ‘can only be here for a trial; this is not a trial. Asural, you have archers?’
Asural nodded with his head to the shadows at the back of the court.
‘Make sure they are ready,’ Amerotke declared. ‘Hotep is a Kushite warrior, a veteran. What will happen here could be very dangerous. Bring him in.’
Amerotke turned to Prenhoe and the line of scribes. Some of them were still writing, copying from each other. Astonished by the revelations, a few had forgotten to transcribe properly and were now asking their colleagues for help.
‘What will happen here,’ Amerotke declared, ‘could become violent. Do not intervene or rise from where you are sitting. You are armed as I ordered you?’
Prenhoe and other scribes fumbled under the cushions and brought out the thin thrusting daggers they’d hidden there, a not unusual precaution. It was known for the condemned or the convicted to try to escape, or even take out their anger and fury on whoever was nearby. Amerotke nodded in satisfaction. The doors at the side of the court opened and Hotep, clad in a loincloth, a white linen robe over his shoulders, strolled in. He knelt on the cushions and stared at Amerotke. Despite his military swagger, this man was frightened and wary. He waited until the doors were closed, sealing off the crowd and their hubbub outside.
‘Lord Judge, why am I here?’
‘Silence,’ Prenhoe shouted. ‘It is not right for you to speak first.’
‘You asked a question,’ Amerotke replied, raising a hand, ‘and you shall have an answer. Hotep, you were captain of the guard for the dead merchant Ipuye, yes?’
‘You know I was.’
‘No insolence here.’ Amerotke leaned forward. ‘You are, therefore, guilty on two counts. First of murder, and second of betraying your master’s trust.’
Hotep would have sprung to his feet, but Asural and three of the guards strode forward and stood behind him. One lowered a spear so that the blade rested on the Kushite’s left shoulder.
‘The lady Meryet…’ Amerotke paused for effect. He was about to practise subterfuge in order to shatter this man’s confidence. Within a few heartbeats he would know whether he had discovered the truth or not. He was certain he had. ‘The lady Meryet has confessed. I shall tell you, Hotep, how you killed your master. On the day Ipuye died, Lady Meryet and her brother Maben left the House of the Golden Vine to attend the ceremony at the Temple of Ptah. We know what happened there, but as regards Ipuye, there was no interference by the Rekhet; you were the killer, Hotep. Before she left, the lady Meryet handed you a sleeping potion. Ipuye and Lady Khiat rose late. They came into the main part of the house, where the only person waiting for them was Hotep, their captain of the guard. Just before they left the house for the lotus pool, both husband and wife drank wine, water or fruit juice in which you distilled the sleeping potion. Not very much, but certainly enough when mingled with the wine they drank later on to induce a heavy sleep. Unlike poisons, sleeping potions leave little or no trace. You washed the goblets thoroughly, then hurried out after your master to the lotus pool. The ever-faithful retainer, you checked your men, but you had also brought them refreshments: a jug of beer and some bread. Of course the beer was also laced with the light sleeping powder. The sun grew stronger. Outside the palisade your men squatted in the shade, drank their beer and gently dozed. After all, who can blame them? A beautiful afternoon in an opulent garden, a cup of beer, its effects heightened by a sleeping powder. Meanwhile in the lotus pool Ipuye and Khiat poured some wine; that and the heat, not to mention the sleeping potion, had the desired effect, and they fell fast asleep on the couches in the sun pavilion. Once you were sure everyone was resting, you carried out the next part of your plan. You and Lady Meryet had hidden in the undergrowth a ladder pole with rungs on either side.’
‘This is not true, my lord.’ Hotep’s lower lip quivered.
Amerotke could tell from the man’s face that it was; the Kushite was truly startled at the extent of the judge’s knowledge.
‘Also hidden in the undergrowth was a fresh, clean loincloth. You stripped yourself naked, took off the chain around your neck, your rings and bracelet, and hid them carefully away. You then took the ladder, positioned it against the palisade, climbed up and peered over the top. The place you’d chosen provided a vantage point. You could see into the sun pavilion, but because of the trees and lush vegetation, any of your men who might be awake couldn’t see you. You dropped down to the ground, went into the sun pavilion, picked up the lady Khiat, took her to the pool and drowned her. Perhaps there was a little resistance, but how long does it take? A few heartbeats? He
r head was pressed down underwater, her body floated away. You then returned to the sun pavilion. Ipuye was heavier, but you are a strong warrior, Hotep. You picked him up, walked into the pool and again lowered him gently, turning him over and thrusting his face down. There may have been some splashing; Ipuye might have regained consciousness, but he was weak and heavy limbed due to the wine and the sleeping potion. The water surged in through his nose and mouth and soon he lost consciousness.
‘No lapis lazuli was found on the feet of Ipuye and Khiat. I now realise the real reason for that: they were lifted into the pool. You made sure both were dead, then you climbed out and raced back to the palisade. The transverse beams on the inside holding the poles together made it easier to scale. You climbed up, let yourself down the ladder and returned to your hiding place. That was when you made your only mistake. Any lapis lazuli on your feet you washed away easily enough with a jug of water. You also used your old loincloth to dry yourself, wiping off anything that could betray what you had done, then putting on a fresh loincloth. Perhaps you crossed the folds a different way, though I shall return to that. In your excitement, you also picked up your ring and bracelet. Old customs die hard, don’t they, Hotep? Instead of putting the ring and bracelet on your left hand, you acted as if you were still a member of the Medjay and put them on the right.
‘The afternoon drew on. You took advantage of your men’s drunken sleep to go back to the house and clear up any details that might arouse suspicion, then you waited. The sun began to set. Saneb awoke and went into the pool enclosure only to discover his master and mistress dead. He hastened out to raise the alarm. We know what happened next. Saneb, however, was vigilant and sharp eyed. When he was talking to you, he realised that your loincloth was new, clean and fresh. Perhaps the folds were arranged differently from earlier in the day. He certainly noticed the ring and bracelet on the wrong hand and arm and became suspicious. You see,’ Amerotke smiled, ‘Saneb too had been a member of the Medjay; he would realise that, half asleep or excited, he might put the ring and bracelet on the wrong hand himself.’ He paused, tapping his sandalled foot. ‘Saneb’s suspicions would be easily fanned. After all, he would wonder, if no intruder could break into that lotus pool and commit murder, then the assassin must be someone in Ipuye’s household; even a member of his bodyguard. Saneb, however, wasn’t interested in justice but in blackmail; he hinted at what he knew so you killed him. Saneb didn’t run away. I suspect his remains are lying amongst the reeds of some crocodile pool along with a sack or cloth containing his possessions.’ Amerotke paused. Hotep was highly agitated, chest heaving, eyeballs rolling. Now and again he’d glance to the left and right.
‘The lady Meryet maintains that you are responsible for the deaths of Saneb, Ipuye and Khiat,’ Amerotke continued. ‘She maintains that your heart has always burned with lust for her but that Lord Ipuye would never allow his bodyguard to marry his former sister-in-law.’ He swallowed. What he had said to Hotep wasn’t a lie. He believed it was the truth and that his accuracy of detail would convince Hotep. ‘But of course the lady Meryet herself is not innocent,’ he declared. ‘She wanted Ipuye dead, didn’t she, Hotep? She promised you that once he was dead she’d be free to marry you. The truth is, Lady Meryet had hoped to become Ipuye’s second wife. She became his lover and visited him under the name Nibit Pi, Mistress of the House, in his Place of Pleasure in Thebes. Ipuye enjoyed her, and promised her that if anything happened to her sister she would be his next wife. And something did. Ipuye left for his Place of Pleasure, ostensibly on business in Thebes. Shortly afterwards Lady Meryet and her sister Patuna went for an evening stroll in that neglected part of the garden near the midden heap. Perhaps they quarrelled, perhaps Lady Patuna knew what her sister had done. Whatever the reason, Meryet decided that Patuna must die. She smashed her skull with a mallet and buried her corpse beneath the compost. She came back, burnt that collarette and marriage bracelet, and left the poem so the story would spread that Patuna had fled.’ Amerotke paused. Hotep sat, shoulders tense, his black skin gleaming with sweat.
‘I do not believe,’ Amerotke’s voice grew louder, ‘that Ipuye’s heart was clean. He may have suspected what Meryet had done but he couldn’t accuse her. Instead he did something worse: he totally ignored her and married Khiat. He knew Patuna hadn’t fled, that her body lay somewhere in that garden, but he let Meryet spread her lies about his alleged involvement in her death. He knew the truth.’ Amerotke pointed further down the hall. ‘I have talked to a Priest of the Ear from a chapel in the Temple of Ptah. He heard Patuna’s confession. She suffered a strange form of malady and was reluctant to leave her house. Few knew of her ailment. Ipuye certainly did, but he didn’t care. He had something he could use to blackmail Lady Meryet, threaten her with. She had no choice but to remain his lover. By declaring that he would only eat what she cooked, Ipuye made sure that he would never fall ill of some mysterious sickness. How the lady Meryet must have seethed! Oh yes,’ Amerotke paused in mock surprise, ‘didn’t you know, Hotep? She continued to see Ipuye; I have seen the accounts of his amorous visitors. Nibit Pi figures prominently there. Lady Meryet, however, was caught. The only thing she really wanted was Ipuye dead, but poison was out: Ipuye made it well known, through his own house as well as beyond, that she cooked his food. So she turned to the captain of Ipuye’s guard, a warrior, a former police officer. According to Ipuye, Lady Meryet is skilled in the arts of love. She seduced you and you believed her, didn’t you? She laid the plans, gave you the sleeping potion and you arranged the rest. A clever plot,’ Amerotke mused, ‘Meryet not even being in the house when Ipuye died.’
Hotep made to rise; it was clear he did not know whether to protest or scream.
‘Am I telling you the truth, Hotep? Throw yourself on Pharaoh’s mercy! Who knows what compassion you may be shown. Lie? You are a former member of the Medjay. You’ve seen men impaled alive above the cliffs of western Thebes. Is that how you want to die? Meryet has confessed hoping to save herself; why not you?’
‘It’s true,’ Hotep licked his lips, ‘it’s true, Lord Judge, but it was her plan. She wanted Ipuye and Khiat dead. She ordered me to kill Saneb. Lord Ipuye did not trust her from the start; that is why he hired me in the first place. He believed the Rekhet did not send that tainted wine, it was a gift from the lady Meryet, who was furious at what he had done. My lord, I have done wrong…’
Amerotke stared to his right at the heavy wooden door on the side wall, a grille high at the top. Behind it Nadif’s men held Meryet gagged and bound so she could see and hear everything but make no protest.
‘Captain Asural,’ he called, pointing to the door, ‘allow in the lady Meryet.’
Asural strode across, lifted the latch and opened the door. The guards brought Meryet in; she looked dishevelled, hair hanging over her eyes.
‘Release the gag,’ Amerotke declared. As soon as they did, Meryet ran forward and fell on her knees beside Hotep.
‘You fool!’ she screamed. ‘You stupid dolt! I told him nothing! What he said to you was all speculation! I never confessed.’
Hotep stared in horror at her then back at the judge. He went down, hands to the floor, crouching like an animal on all fours, then looked up. Even Amerotke, watching his eyes, was taken by surprise as Hotep gathered himself, screamed and lunged forward. He had reached the steps leading to Amerotke’s throne when the first arrow hit him. Amerotke stood, dagger poised, as the Kushite stopped and turned as if to look for his tormentors. A second arrow took him in the throat, a third in the chest. He staggered to the side, coughed, blood spluttering out of his mouth, and crashed to the floor. Asural raced forward and turned the corpse over, feeling for the life beat in the throat. He glanced up at Amerotke.
‘Dead? Take his corpse away,’ Amerotke said quietly, trying to control his own breathing. His body was sweat soaked, and he could almost hear his heart thudding.
‘You knew he’d do that, didn’t you?’ Meryet screamed. ‘You tricked hi
m!’
‘I told him the truth,’ Amerotke replied, walking down the steps towards her. ‘I told him precisely what happened and why. I told him about his involvement and yours. Lady Meryet, where is the lie in what I have said?’ He pointed to the line of scribes. ‘They have taken down Hotep’s confession. The promise I gave him I now offer you. You have heard the indictment; you will go on trial for your life. You know what the outcome will be. Take her away.’
HRU MIT: ancient Egyptian, ‘death day’
EPILOGUE
‘Last night I dreamed…’ Prenhoe, standing behind Amerotke, murmured, ‘I was floating on the wings of an ibis bird above the Nile; beneath me sailed a royal barge. What do you think that signifies, Lord Judge?’
‘That you want to be an ibis bird,’ Shufoy joked.
Amerotke held up his hand. ‘Not here,’ he whispered. He stared down the dark passageway of the House of Death beneath the Temple of Ma’at. Guards, their faces masked, stood either side of the two cell doors now thrown open. Amerotke, dressed in the full robes of his office, walked towards them. In the first cell Minnakht sat in a corner cradling the death cup. When Amerotke came in, the former Chief of Scribes returned to staring at the floor, moving the cup slowly from hand to hand. Around the cell stood guards wearing the jackal mask of Anubis; they were dressed in leather kilts, spear in one hand, shield in the other. Amerotke nodded and went to the adjoining cell. Here Meryet sat with her back to the wall. She too held the cup of death. She glanced up as Amerotke entered, shook her head, lifted the cup as if to drink then put it down. Amerotke left and went back to stand in the passageway.
‘Lord Judge.’ The Chief Executioner walked forward, took off his mask and wiped the sweat off his face. ‘My lord, how long are we to wait?’
‘You know the ritual,’ Amerotke replied. ‘An hour.’
The Poisoner of Ptah Page 25
