Death Comes as the End

by Agatha Christie

  Henet’s voice dropped to its usual whining key.

  ‘I’m sure I’m far too busy in the house to waste my time running about telling people things–and telling Kameni of all people. I’m sure I’d never speak a word to him if he didn’t come and speak to me. He’s got a pleasant manner, as you must admit yourself, Esa–and I’m not the only one who thinks so–oh dear no! And if a young widow wants to make a new contract, well, she usually fancies a handsome young man–though what Imhotep would say I’m sure I don’t know. Kameni is only a junior scribe when all is said and done.’

  ‘Never mind what Kameni is or isn’t! Did you tell him that it was Sobek who opposed Ipy being made a partner in the association?’

  ‘Well, really, Esa, I can’t remember what I may or may not have said. I didn’t actually go and tell anyone anything, that much is sure. But a word passed here and there, and you know yourself that Sobek was saying–and Yahmose too for that matter, though, of course, not so loud nor so often–that Ipy was a mere boy and that it would never do–and for all I know Kameni may have heard him say it himself and not got it from me at all. I never gossip–but after all, a tongue is given one to speak with and I’m not a deaf mute.’

  ‘That you most certainly are not,’ said Esa. ‘A tongue, Henet, may sometimes be a weapon. A tongue may cause a death–may cause more than one death. I hope your tongue, Henet, has not caused a death.’

  ‘Why, Esa, the things you say! And what’s in your mind? I’m sure I never say a word to anybody that I wouldn’t be willing to let the whole world overhear. I’m so devoted to the whole family–I’d die for any one of them. Oh, they underestimate old Henet’s devotion. I promised their dear mother–’

  ‘Ha,’ said Esa, cutting her short, ‘here comes my plump reed bird, cooked with leeks and celery. It smells delicious–cooked to a turn. Since you’re so devoted, Henet, you can take a little mouthful from one side–just in case it’s poisoned.’

  ‘Esa!’ Henet gave a squeal. ‘Poisoned! How can you say such things! And cooked in our very own kitchen.’

  ‘Well,’ said Esa, ‘someone’s got to taste it–just in case. And it had better be you, Henet, since you’re so willing to die for any member of the family. I don’t suppose it would be too painful a death. Come on, Henet. Look how plump and juicy and tasty it is. No, thanks, I don’t want to lose my little slave girl. She’s young and merry. You’ve passed your best days, Henet, and it wouldn’t matter so much what happened to you. Now then–open your mouth…Delicious, isn’t it? I declare–you’re looking quite green in the face. Didn’t you like my little joke? I don’t believe you did. Ha ha, he he.’

  Esa rolled about with merriment, then composing herself suddenly, she set greedily to work to eat her favourite dish.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  SECOND MONTH OF SUMMER 1ST DAY

  The consultation at the Temple was over. The exact form of the petition had been drawn up and amended. Hori and two Temple scribes had been busily employed. Now at last the first step had been taken.

  The priest signed that the draft of the petition should be read out.

  ‘To the Most Excellent Spirit Ashayet. This from your brother and husband. Has the sister forgotten her brother? Has the mother forgotten the children that were born to her? Does not the most excellent Ashayet know that a spirit of evil life menaces her children? Already is Sobek, her son, passed to Osiris by means of poison.

  ‘I treated you in life with all honour. I gave you jewels and dresses, unguents and perfumes and oils for your limbs. Together we ate of good foods, sitting in peace and amity with tables loaded before us. When you were ill, I spared no expense. I procured for you a Master Physician. You were buried with all honour and with due ceremonies and all things needful for your life in the hereafter were provided for you–servants and oxen and food and drink and jewels and raiment. I mourned for you many years–and after long long years only did I take a concubine so that I might live as befits a man not yet old.

  ‘This concubine it is that now does evil to your children. Do you not know of this? Perchance you are in ignorance. Surely if Ashayet knows, she will be swift to come to the aid of the sons born to her.

  ‘Is it that Ashayet knows, but the evil is still done because the concubine is strong in evil magic? Yet surely it is against your will, most excellent Ashayet. Therefore reflect that in the Field of Offerings you have great relatives and powerful helpers. The great and noble Ipi, Chief Butler to the Visier. Invoke his aid! Also your mother’s brother, the great and powerful Meriptah, the Nomarch of the Province. Acquaint him with the shameful truth. Let it be brought before his court. Let witnesses be summoned. Let them testify against Nofret that she has done this evil. Let judgement be given and may Nofret be condemned and let it be decreed that she do no more evil in this house.

  ‘Oh, excellent Ashayet, if you are angry with this your brother Imhotep in that he did listen to this woman’s evil persuasions and did threaten to do injustice to your children that were born of you, then reflect that it is not he alone that suffers, but your children also. Forgive your brother Imhotep aught that he has done for the sake of the children.’

  The chief Scribe stopped reading. Mersu nodded approval.

  ‘It is well expressed. Nothing, I think, has been left out.’ Imhotep rose.

  ‘I thank you, Reverend Father. My offering shall reach you before tomorrow’s sun sets–cattle, oil and flax. Shall we fix the day after that for the Ceremony–the placing of the inscribed bowl in the offering chamber of the Tomb?’

  ‘Make it three days from now. The bowl must be inscribed and the preparations made for the necessary rites.’

  ‘As you will. I am anxious that no more mischief should befall.’

  ‘I can well understand your anxiety, Imhotep. But have no fear. The good spirit Ashayet will surely answer this appeal, and her kinsfolk have authority and power and can deal justice where it is so richly deserved.’

  ‘May Isis allow that it be so! I thank you, Mersu–and for your care and cure of my son Yahmose. Come, Hori, we have much that must be seen to. Let us return to the house. Ah–this petition does indeed lift a weight off my mind. The excellent Ashayet will not fail her distracted brother.’

  II

  When Hori entered the courtyard, bearing his rolls of papyrus, Renisenb was watching for him. She came running from the lake.

  ‘Hori!’

  ‘Yes, Renisenb?’

  ‘Will you come with me to Esa? She has been waiting and wants you.’

  ‘Of course. Let me just see if Imhotep–’

  But Imhotep had been buttonholed by Ipy and father and son were engaged in close conversation.

  ‘Let me put down these scrolls and these other things and I will come with you, Renisenb.’

  Esa looked pleased when Renisenb and Hori came to her.

  ‘Here is Hori, grandmother. I brought him to you at once.’

  ‘Good. Is the air pleasant outside?’

  ‘I–I think so.’ Renisenb was slightly taken aback.

  ‘Then give me my stick. I will walk a little in the courtyard.’

  Esa seldom left the house and Renisenb was surprised. She guided the old woman with a hand below her elbow. They went through the central hall and out on to the porch.

  ‘Will you sit here, grandmother?’

  ‘No, child, I will walk as far as the lake.’

  Esa’s progress was slow, but although she limped, she was strong on her feet and showed no signs of tiredness. Looking about her, she chose a spot where flowers had been planted in a little bed near the lake and where a sycamore fig tree gave welcome shade.

  Then, once established, she said with grim satisfaction:

  ‘There! Now we can talk and no one can overhear our talk.’

  ‘You are wise, Esa,’ said Hori approvingly.

  ‘The things which have to be said must be known only to us three. I trust you, Hori. You have been with us since you were a little boy. Yo
u have always been faithful and discreet and wise. Renisenb here is the dearest to me of all my son’s children. No harm must come to her, Hori.’

  ‘No harm shall come to her, Esa.’

  Hori did not raise his voice, but the tone of it and the look in his face as his eyes met the old woman’s amply satisfied her.

  ‘That is well said, Hori–quietly and without heat–but as one who means what he says. Now tell me what has been aranged today?’

  Hori recounted the drawing up of the petition and the gist of it. Esa listened carefully.

  ‘Now listen to me, Hori, and look at this.’ She drew the lion necklace from her dress and handed it to him. She added: ‘Tell him, Renisenb, where you found this.’

  Renisenb did so. Then Esa said: ‘Well, Hori, what do you think?’

  Hori was silent for a moment, then he asked: ‘You are old and wise, Esa. What do you think?’

  Esa said: ‘You are not of those, Hori, who do not like to speak rash words unaccompanied with facts. You knew, did you not, from the first how Nofret came to her death?’

  ‘I suspected the truth, Esa. It was only suspicion.’

  ‘Exactly. And we have only suspicion now. Yet here, by the lake, between us three, suspicion can be spoken–and afterwards not referred to again. Now it seems to me that there are three explanations of the tragic things that happened. The first is that the herd boy spoke the truth and that what he saw was indeed Nofret’s ghost returned from the dead and that she had an evil determination to revenge herself still further by causing increased sorrow and grief to our family. That may be so–it is said by priests and others to be possible and we do know that illnesses are caused by evil spirits. But it seems to me, who am an old woman and not inclined to believe all that priests and others say, that there are other possibilities.’

  ‘Such as?’ asked Hori.

  ‘Let us admit that Nofret was killed by Satipy, that some time afterwards at that same spot Satipy had a vision of Nofret and that, in her fear and guilt, she fell and died. That is all clear enough. But now let us come to another assumption; which is that after that someone, for a reason we have yet to discover, wished to cause the death of two of Imhotep’s sons. That someone counted on a superstitious dread ascribing the deed to the spirit of Nofret–a singularly convenient assumption.’

  ‘Who would want to kill Yahmose or Sobek?’ cried Renisenb.

  ‘Not a servant,’ said Esa, ‘they would not dare. That leaves us with but few people from whom to chose.’

  ‘One of ourselves? But, grandmother, that could not be!’

  ‘Ask Hori,’ said Esa drily. ‘You notice he makes no protest.’

  Renisenb turned to him. ‘Hori–surely–’

  Hori shook his head gravely.

  ‘Renisenb, you are young and trusting. You think that everyone you know and love is just as they appear to you. You do not know the human heart and the bitterness–yes, and evil–it may contain.’

  ‘But who–which one–?’

  Esa broke in briskly:

  ‘Let us go back to this tale told by the herd boy. He saw a woman dressed in a dyed linen dress wearing Nofret’s necklace. Now if it was no spirit, then he saw exactly what he said he did–which means that he saw a woman who was deliberately trying to appear like Nofret. It might have been Kait–it might have been Henet–it might have been you, Renisenb! From that distance it might have been anyone wearing a woman’s dress and a wig. Hush–let me go on. The other possibility is that the boy was lying. He told a tale that he had been taught to tell. He was obeying someone who had the right to command him and he may have been too dull-witted even to realize the point of the story he was bribed or cajoled to tell. We shall never know now because the boy is dead–in itself a suggestive point. It inclines me to the belief that the boy told a story he had been taught. Questioned closely, as he would have been today, that story could have been broken down–it is easy to discover with a little patience whether a child is lying.’

  ‘So you think we have a poisoner in our midst?’ asked Hori.

  ‘I do,’ said Esa. ‘And you?’

  ‘I think so too,’ said Hori.

  Renisenb glanced from one to the other of them in dismay.

  Hori went on:

  ‘But the motive seems to me far from clear.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Esa. ‘That is why I am uneasy. I do not know who is threatened next.’

  Renisenb broke in: ‘But–one of us?’ Her tone was still incredulous.

  Esa said sternly: ‘Yes, Renisenb–one of us. Henet or Kait or Ipy, or Kameni, or Imhotep himself–yes, or Esa or Hori or even–’ she smiled–‘Renisenb.’

  ‘You are right, Esa,’ said Hori. ‘We must include ourselves.’

  ‘But why?’ Renisenb’s voice held wondering horror. ‘Why?’

  ‘If we knew that, we’d know very nearly all we wanted to know,’ said Esa. ‘We can only go by who was attacked. Sobek, remember, joined Yahmose unexpectedly after Yahmose had commenced to drink. Therefore it is certain that whoever did it wanted to kill Yahmose, less certain that that person wished also to kill Sobek.’

  ‘But who could wish to kill Yahmose?’ Renisenb spoke with sceptical intonation. ‘Yahmose, surely, of us all would have no enemies. He is always quiet and kindly.’

  ‘Therefore, clearly, the motive was not one of personal hate,’ said Hori. ‘As Renisenb says, Yahmose is not the kind of man who makes enemies.’

  ‘No,’ said Esa. ‘The motive is more obscure than that. We have here either enmity against the family as a whole, or else there lies behind all these things that covetousness against which the Maxims of Ptahotep warn us. It is, he says, a bundle of every kind of evil and a bag of everything that is blameworthy!’

  ‘I see the direction in which your mind is tending, Esa,’ said Hori. ‘But to arrive at any conclusion we shall have to make a forecast of the future.’

  Esa nodded her head vigorously and her large wig slipped over one ear. Grotesque though this made her appearance, no one was inclined to laugh.

  ‘Make such a forecast, Hori,’ she said.

  Hori was silent for a moment or two, his eyes thoughtful. The two women waited. Then, at last, he spoke.

  ‘If Yahmose had died as intended, then the principal beneficiaries would have been Imhotep’s remaining sons, Sobek and Ipy–some part of the estate would doubtless have been set aside for Yahmose’s children, but the administration of it would have been in their hands–in Sobek’s hands in particular. Sobek would undoubtedly have been the greatest gainer. He would presumably have functioned as ka-priest during Imhotep’s absences and would succeed to that office after Imhotep’s death. But though Sobek benefited, yet Sobek cannot be the guilty person since he himself drank of the poisoned wine so heartily that he died. Therefore, as far as I can see, the deaths of these two can benefit only one person (at the moment, that is) and that person is Ipy.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Esa. ‘But I note, Hori, that you are far-seeing–and I appreciate your qualifying phrase. But let us consider Ipy. He is young and impatient, he has in many ways a bad disposition, he is at the age when the fulfilment of what he desires seems to him the most important thing in life. He felt anger and resentment against his elder brothers and considered that he had been unjustly excluded from participation in the family partnership. It seems, too, that unwise things were said to him by Kameni–’

  ‘Kameni?’

  It was Renisenb who interrupted. Immediately she had done so she flushed and bit her lip. Hori turned his head to look at her. The long, gentle, penetrating look he gave her hurt her in some indefinable way. Esa craned her neck forward and peered at the girl.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘By Kameni. Whether or not inspired by Henet is another matter. The fact remains that Ipy is ambitious and arrogant, was resentful of his brothers’ superior authority and that he definitely considers himself, as he told me long ago, the superior ruling intelligence of the family.’

  Esa�
�s tone was dry.

  Hori asked: ‘He said that to you?’

  ‘He was kind enough to associate me with himself in the possession of a certain amount of intelligence.’

  Renisenb demanded incredulously:

  ‘You think Ipy deliberately poisoned Yahmose and Sobek?’

  ‘I consider it a possibility, no more. This is suspicion that we talk now–we have not yet come to proof. Men have killed their brothers since the beginning of time, knowing that the Gods dislike such killing, yet driven by the evils of covetousness and hatred. And if Ipy did this thing, we shall not find it easy to get proof of what he did, for Ipy, I freely admit, is clever.’

  Hori nodded.

  ‘But as I say, it is suspicion we talk here, under the sycamore. And we will go on now to considering every member of the household in the light of suspicion. As I say, I exclude the servants because I do not believe for one moment that any one of them would dare do such a thing. But I do not exclude Henet.’

  ‘Henet?’ cried Renisenb. ‘But Henet is devoted to us all. She never stops saying so.’

  ‘It is as easy to utter lies as truth. I have known Henet for many years. I knew her when she came here as a young woman with your mother. She was a relative of hers–poor and unfortunate. Her husband had not cared for her–and indeed Henet was always plain and unattractive–and had divorced her. The one child she bore died in infancy. She came here professing herself devoted to your mother, but I have seen her eyes watching your mother as she moved about the house and courtyard–and I tell you, Renisenb, there was no love in them. No, sour envy was nearer the mark–and as to her professions of love for you all, I distrust them.’

  ‘Tell me, Renisenb,’ said Hori. ‘Do you yourself feel affection towards Henet?’

  ‘N-no,’ said Renisenb unwillingly. ‘I cannot. I have often reproached myself because I dislike her.’

  ‘Don’t you think that that is because, instinctively, you know her words are false? Does she ever show her reputed love for you by any real service? Has she not always fomented discord between you all by whispering and repeating things that are likely to wound and cause anger?’