Death Comes as the End

by Agatha Christie

  ‘What is it, Renisenb?’

  ‘Nofret.’

  ‘What do you mean–Nofret?’

  Renisenb spoke with swift certainty.

  ‘The broken amulet in Nofret’s jewel box. It was you who gave it to her…You and Nofret…I see everything now. Why she was so unhappy. And I know who put the jewel box in my room. I know everything…Do not lie to me, Kameni. I tell you I know.’

  Kameni made no protest. He stood looking at her steadily and his gaze did not falter. When he spoke, his voice was grave and for once there was no smile on his face.

  ‘I shall not lie to you, Renisenb.’

  He waited for a moment, frowning a little as though trying to arrange his thoughts.

  ‘In a way, Renisenb, I am glad that you do know. Though it is not quite as you think.’

  ‘You gave the broken amulet to her–as you would have given it to me–as a sign that you were halves of the same whole. Those were your words.’

  ‘You are angry, Renisenb. I am glad because that shows that you love me. But all the same I must make you understand. I did not give the amulet to Nofret. She gave it to me…’

  He paused. ‘Perhaps you do not believe me, but it is true. I swear that it is true.’

  Renisenb said slowly: ‘I will not say that I do not believe you…That may very well be true.’

  Nofret’s dark, unhappy face rose up before her eyes.

  Kameni was going on, eagerly, boyishly…

  ‘Try and understand, Renisenb. Nofret was very beautiful. I was flattered and pleased–who would not be? But I never really loved her–’

  Renisenb felt an odd pang of pity. No, Kameni had not loved Nofret–but Nofret had loved Kameni–had loved him despairingly and bitterly. It was at just this spot on the Nile bank that she had spoken to Nofret that morning, offering her friendship and affection. She remembered only too well the dark tide of hate and misery that had emanated from the girl then. The cause of it was clear enough now. Poor Nofret–the concubine of a fussy, elderly man, eating her heart out for love of a gay, careless, handsome young man who had cared little or nothing for her.

  Kameni was going on eagerly.

  ‘Do you not understand, Renisenb, that as soon as I came here, I saw you and loved you? That from that moment I thought of no one else? Nofret saw it plainly enough.’

  Yes, Renisenb thought, Nofret had seen it. Nofret had hated her from that moment–and Renisenb did not feel inclined to blame her.

  ‘I did not even want to write the letter to your father. I did not want to have anything to do with Nofret’s schemes any more. But it was difficult–you must try and realize that it was difficult.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Renisenb spoke impatiently. ‘All that does not matter. It is only Nofret that matters. She was very unhappy. She loved you, I think, very much.’

  ‘Well, I did not love her.’ Kameni spoke impatiently.

  ‘You are cruel,’ said Renisenb.

  ‘No, I am a man, that is all. If a woman chooses to make herself miserable about me, it annoys me, that is the simple truth. I did not want Nofret. I wanted you. Oh, Renisenb, you cannot be angry with me for that?’

  In spite of herself she smiled.

  ‘Do not let Nofret who is dead make trouble between us who are living. I love you, Renisenb, and you love me and that is all that matters.’

  Yes, Renisenb thought, that is all that matters…

  She looked at Kameni who stood with his head a little on one side, a pleading expression on his gay, confident face. He looked very young.

  Renisenb thought: ‘He is right. Nofret is dead and we are alive. I understand her hatred of me now–and I am sorry that she suffered–but it was not my fault. And it was not Kameni’s fault that he loved me and not her. These things happen.’

  Teti, who had been playing on the River bank, came up and pulled her mother’s hand.

  ‘Shall we go home now? Mother–shall we go home?’

  Renisenb gave a deep sigh.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘we will go home.’

  They walked towards the house, Teti running a little way in front of them. Kameni gave a sigh of satisfaction.

  ‘You are generous, Renisenb, as well as lovely. All is the same as it was between us?’

  ‘Yes, Kameni. All the same.’

  He lowered his voice. ‘Out there on the River–I was very happy. Were you happy too, Renisenb?’

  ‘Yes, I was happy.’

  ‘You looked happy. But you looked as though you were thinking of something very far away. I want you to think of me.’

  ‘I was thinking of you.’

  He took her hand and she did not draw it away. He sang very softly under his breath:

  ‘My sister is like the persea tree…’

  He felt her hand tremble in his and heard the quickened pace of her breathing and was satisfied at last…

  III

  Renisenb called Henet to her room.

  Henet, hurrying in, came to an abrupt stop as she saw Renisenb standing by the open jewel box with the broken amulet in her hand. Renisenb’s face was stern and angry.

  ‘You put this jewel box in my room, didn’t you, Henet? You wanted me to find that amulet. You wanted me one day–’

  ‘To find out who had the other half? I see you have found out. Well, it’s always as well to know, isn’t it, Renisenb?’

  Henet laughed spitefully.

  ‘You wanted the knowledge to hurt me,’ said Renisenb, her anger still at white heat. ‘You like hurting people, don’t you, Henet? You never say anything straight out. You wait and wait–until the best moment comes. You hate us all, don’t you? You always have.’

  ‘The things you’re saying, Renisenb! I’m sure you don’t mean them!’

  But there was no whine in Henet’s voice now, only a sly triumph.

  ‘You wanted to make trouble between me and Kameni. Well, there is no trouble.’

  ‘That’s very nice and forgiving of you, I’m sure, Renisenb. You’re quite different from Nofret, aren’t you?’

  ‘Do not let us talk of Nofret.’

  ‘No, better not perhaps. Kameni’s lucky as well as being good-looking, isn’t he? It was lucky for him, I mean, that Nofret died when she did. She could have made a lot of trouble for him. With your father. She wouldn’t have liked his marrying you–no, she wouldn’t have liked it at all. In fact, I think she would have found some way of stopping it. I’m quite sure she would.’

  Renisenb looked at her with cold dislike.

  ‘There is always poison in your tongue, Henet. It stings like a scorpion. But you cannot make me unhappy.’

  ‘Well, that’s splendid, isn’t it? You must be very much in love. Oh, he’s a handsome young man is Kameni–and he knows how to sing a very pretty love song. He’ll always get what he wants, never fear. I admire him, I really do. He always seems so simple and straightforward.’

  ‘What are you trying to say, Henet?’

  ‘I’m just telling you that I admire Kameni. And I’m quite sure that he is simple and straightforward. It’s not put on. The whole thing is quite like one of those tales the storytellers in the Bazaars recite. The poor young scribe marrying the master’s daughter and sharing the inheritance with her and living happily ever afterwards. Wonderful what good luck a handsome young man always has.’

  ‘I am right,’ said Renisenb. ‘You do hate us.’

  ‘Now how can you say that, Renisenb, when you know how I’ve slaved for you all ever since your mother died?’

  But there was still the evil triumph in Henet’s voice rather than the customary whine.

  Renisenb looked down again at the jewel box and suddenly another certainty came into her mind.

  ‘It was you who put the gold lion necklace in this box. Don’t deny it, Henet. I know, I tell you.’

  Henet’s sly triumph died. She looked suddenly frightened.

  ‘I couldn’t help it, Renisenb. I was afraid…’

  ‘What do you m
ean–afraid?’

  Henet came a step nearer and lowered her voice.

  ‘She gave it to me–Nofret, I mean. Oh, some time before she died. She gave me one or two–presents. Nofret was generous, you know. Oh yes, she was always generous.’

  ‘I daresay she paid you well.’

  ‘That’s not a nice way of putting it, Renisenb. But I’m telling you all about it. She gave me the gold lion necklace and an amethyst clasp and one or two other things. And then, when that boy came out with his story of having seen a woman with that necklace on–well, I was afraid. I thought maybe they’d think that it was I who poisoned Yahmose’s wine. So I put the necklace in the box.’

  ‘Is that the truth, Henet? Do you ever speak the truth?’

  ‘I swear it’s the truth, Renisenb. I was afraid…’

  Renisenb looked at her curiously. ‘You’re shaking, Henet. You look as though you were afraid now.’

  ‘Yes, I am afraid…I’ve reason to be.’

  ‘Why? Tell me.’

  Henet licked her thin lips. She glanced sideways, behind her. Her eyes came back like a hunted animal’s.

  ‘Tell me,’ said Renisenb.

  Henet shook her head. She said in an uncertain voice:

  ‘There’s nothing to tell.’

  ‘You know too much, Henet. You’ve always known too much. You’ve enjoyed it, but now it’s dangerous. That’s it, isn’t it?’

  Henet shook her head again. Then she laughed maliciously.

  ‘You wait, Renisenb. One day I shall hold the whip in this house–and crack it. Wait and see.’

  Renisenb drew herself up. ‘You will not harm me, Henet. My mother will not let you harm me.’

  Henet’s face changed–the eyes burned.

  ‘I hated your mother,’ she said. ‘I always hated her…And you who have her eyes–and her voice–her beauty and her arrogance–I hate you, Renisenb.’

  Renisenb laughed. ‘And at last–I’ve made you say it!’

  IV

  Old Esa limped wearily into her room.

  She was perplexed and very weary. Age, she realized, was at last taking toll of her. So far she had acknowledged her weariness of body, but had been conscious of no weariness of mind. But now she had to admit that the strain of remaining mentally alert was taxing her bodily resources.

  If she knew now, as she believed she did, from what quarter danger impended–yet that knowledge permitted of no mental relaxation. Instead she had to be more than ever on her guard since she had deliberately drawn attention to herself. Proof–proof–she must get proof…But how?

  It was there, she realized, that her age told against her. She was too tired to improvise–to make the mental creative effort. All she was capable of was defence–to remain alert, watchful, guarding herself.

  For the killer–she had no illusions about that–would be quite ready to kill again.

  Well, she had no intention of being the next victim. Poison, she felt sure, was the vehicle that would be employed. Violence was not conceivable since she was never alone, but was always surrounded by servants. So it would be poison. Well, she could counter that. Renisenb should cook her food and bring it to her. She had a wine stand and jar brought to her room and after a slave had tasted it, she waited twenty-four hours to make sure that no evil results followed. She made Renisenb share her food and her wine–although she had no fear for Renisenb–yet. It might be that there was no fear for Renisenb–ever. But of that one could not be sure.

  Between whiles she sat motionless, driving her weary brain to devise means of proving the truth or watching her little maid starching and pleating her linen dresses, or re-stringing necklaces and bracelets. This evening she was very weary. She had joined Imhotep at his request to discuss the question of Renisenb’s marriage before he himself spoke to his daughter.

  Imhotep, shrunken and fretful, was a shadow of his former self. His manner had lost its pomposity and assurance. He leaned now on his mother’s indomitable will and determination.

  As for Esa, she had been fearful–very fearful–of saying the wrong thing. Lives might hang on an injudicious word.

  Yes, she said at last, the idea of marriage was wise. And there was no time to go far afield for a husband amongst more important members of the family clan. After all, the female line was the important one–her husband would be only the administrator of the inheritance that came to Renisenb and Renisenb’s children.

  So it came to a question of Hori–a man of integrity, of old and long-approved friendship, the son of a small land-owner whose estate had adjoined their own, or young Kameni with his claims of cousinship.

  Esa had weighed the matter carefully before speaking. A false word now–and disaster might result.

  Then she had made her answer, stressing it with the force of her indomitable personality. Kameni, she said, was undoubtedly the husband for Renisenb. Their declarations and the necessary attendant festivities–much curtailed owing to the recent bereavements–might take place in a week’s time. That is, if Renisenb was willing. Kameni was a fine young man–together they would raise strong children. Moreover the two of them loved one another.

  Well, Esa thought, she had cast her die. The thing would be pegged out now on the gaming board. It was out of her hands. She had done what she thought expedient. If it was hazardous–well, Esa liked a match at the gaming board quite as well as Ipy had done. Life was not a matter of safety–it must be hazarded to win the game.

  She looked suspiciously round her room when she returned to it. Particularly she examined the big wine jar. It was covered over and sealed as she had left it. She always sealed it when she left the room and the seal hung safely round her neck.

  Yes–she was taking no risks of that kind. Esa chuckled with malicious satisfaction. Not so easy to kill an old woman. Old women knew the value of life–and knew most of the tricks too. Tomorrow–She called her little maid.

  ‘Where is Hori? Do you know?’

  The girl replied that she thought Hori was up at the Tomb in the rock chamber.

  Esa nodded satisfaction.

  ‘Go up to him there. Tell him that tomorrow morning, when Imhotep and Yahmose are out on the cultivation, taking Kameni with them for the counting, and when Kait is at the lake with the children, he is to come to me here. Have you understood that? Repeat it.’

  The little maid did so, and Esa sent her off.

  Yes, her plan was satisfactory. The consultation with Hori would be quite private since she would send Henet on an errand to the weaving sheds. She would warn Hori of what was to come and they could speak freely together.

  When the black girl returned with the message that Hori would do as she said, Esa gave a sigh of relief.

  Now, these things settled, her weariness spread over her like a flood. She told the girl to bring the pot of sweet smelling ointment and massage her limbs.

  The rhythm soothed her, and the unguent eased the aching of her bones.

  She stretched herself out at last, her head on the wooden pillow, and slept–her fears for the moment allayed.

  She woke much later with a strange sensation of coldness. Her feet, her hands, were numbed and dead…It was like a constriction stealing all over the body. She could feel it numbing her brain, paralysing her will, slowing down the beat of her heart.

  She thought: ‘This is Death…’

  A strange death–death unheralded, with no warning signs.

  This, she thought, is how the old die…

  And then a surer conviction came to her. This was not natural death! This was the Enemy stiking out of the darkness.

  Poison…

  But how? When? All she had eaten, all she had drunk–tested, secured–there had been no loophole of error.

  Then how? When?

  With her last feeble flickers of intelligence, Esa sought to penetrate the mystery. She must know–she must–before she died.

  She felt the pressure increasing on her heart–the deadly coldness–the slow painful
indrawing of her breath.

  How had the enemy done this thing?

  And suddenly, from the past, a fleeting memory came to aid her understanding. The shaven skin of a lamb–a lump of smelling grease–an experiment of her father’s–to show that some poisons could be absorbed by the skin. Wool fat–unguents made of wool fat. That was how the enemy had reached her. Her pot of sweet smelling unguent, so necessary to an Egyptian woman. The poison had been in that…

  And tomorrow–Hori–he would not know–she could not tell him…It was too late.

  In the morning a frightened little slave girl went running through the house crying out that her lady had died in her sleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  SECOND MONTH OF SUMMER 16TH DAY

  Imhotep stood looking down on Esa’s body. His face was sorrowful, but not suspicious.

  His mother, he said, had died naturally enough of old age.

  ‘She was old,’ he said. ‘Yes, she was old. It was doubtless time for her to go to Osiris, and all her troubles and sorrows have hastened the end. But it seems to have come peacefully enough. Thank Ra in his mercy that here is a death unaided by man or by evil spirit. There is no violence here. See how peaceful she looks.’

  Renisenb wept and Yahmose comforted her. Henet went about sighing and shaking her head, and saying what a loss Esa would be and how devoted she, Henet, had always been to her. Kameni checked his singing and showed a proper mourning face.

  Hori came and stood looking down at the dead woman. It was the hour of her summons to him. He wondered what, exactly, she had meant to say.

  She had had something definite to tell him.

  Now he would never know.

  But he thought, perhaps, that he could guess…

  II

  ‘Hori–was she killed?’

  ‘I think so, Renisenb.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I do not know.’

  ‘But she was so careful.’ The girl’s voice was distressed and bewildered. ‘She was always on the watch. She took every precaution. Everything she ate and drank was proved and tested.’

  ‘I know, Renisenb. But all the same I think she was killed.’