Death Comes as the End

by Agatha Christie

  ‘And she was the wisest of us all–the cleverest! She was sure that no harm could befall her. Hori, it must be magic! Evil magic, the spell of an evil spirit.’

  ‘You believe that because it is the easiest thing to believe. People are like that. But Esa herself would not have believed it. If she knew–before she died, and did not die in her sleep–she knew it was living person’s work.’

  ‘And she knew whose?’

  ‘Yes. She had shown her suspicion too openly. She became a danger to the enemy. The fact that she died proves that her suspicion was correct.’

  ‘And she told you–who it was?’

  ‘No,’ said Hori. ‘She did not tell me. She never mentioned a name. Nevertheless, her thought and my thought were, I am convinced, the same.’

  ‘Then you must tell me, Hori, so that I may be on my guard.’

  ‘No, Renisenb, I care too much for your safety to do that.’

  ‘Am I so safe?’

  Hori’s face darkened. He said: ‘No, Renisenb, you are not safe. No one is safe. But you are much safer than if you were assured of the truth–for then you would become a definite menace to be removed at once whatever the risk.’

  ‘What about you, Hori? You know.’

  He corrected her. ‘I think I know. But I have said nothing and shown nothing. Esa was unwise. She spoke out. She showed the direction in which her thoughts were tending. She should not have done that–I told her so afterwards.’

  ‘But you–Hori…If anything happens to you…’

  She stopped. She was aware of Hori’s eyes looking into hers.

  Grave, intent, seeing straight into her mind and heart…

  He took her hands in his and held them lightly.

  ‘Do not fear for me, little Renisenb…All will be well.’

  ‘Yes, she thought, all will indeed be well if Hori says so. Strange, that feeling of content, of peace, of clear singing happiness…As lovely and as remote as the far distance seen from the Tomb–a distance in which there was no clamour of human demands and restrictions.

  Suddenly, almost harshly, she heard herself saying:

  ‘I am to marry Kameni.’

  Hori let her hands go–quietly and quite naturally.

  ‘I know, Renisenb.’

  ‘They–my father–they think it is the best thing.’

  ‘I know.’

  He moved away.

  The courtyard walls seemed to come nearer, the voices within the house and from the cornbins outside sounded louder and noisier.

  Renisenb had only one thought in her mind: ‘Hori is going…’

  She called to him timidly:

  ‘Hori, where are you going?’

  ‘Out to the fields with Yahmose. There is much work there to be done and recorded. The reaping is nearly finished.’

  ‘And Kameni?’

  ‘Kameni comes with us.’

  Renisenb cried out: ‘I am afraid here. Yes, even in daylight with all the servants all round and Ra sailing across the Heavens, I am afraid.’

  He came quickly back.

  ‘Do not be afraid, Renisenb. I swear to you that you need not be afraid. Not today.’

  ‘But after today?’

  ‘Today is enough to live through–and I swear to you you are not in danger today.’

  Renisenb looked at him and frowned.

  ‘But we are in danger? Yahmose, my father, myself? It is not I who am threatened first…is that what you think?’

  ‘Try not to think about it, Renisenb. I am doing all I can, though it may appear to you that I am doing nothing.’

  ‘I see–’ Renisenb looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I see. It is to be Yahmose first. The enemy has tried twice with poison and failed. There is to be a third attempt. That is why you will be close beside him–to protect him. And after that it will be the turn of my father and myself. Who is there who hates our family so much that–’

  ‘Hush. You would do well not to talk of these things. Trust me, Renisenb. Try and banish fear from your mind.’

  Renisenb threw her head back. She faced him proudly.

  ‘I do trust you, Hori. You will not let me die…I love life very much and I do not want to leave it.’

  ‘You shall not leave it, Renisenb.’

  ‘Nor you either, Hori.’

  ‘Nor I either.’

  They smiled at each other and then Hori went away to find Yahmose.

  III

  Renisenb sat back on her haunches watching Kait.

  Kait was helping the children to model toys out of clay, using the water of the lake. Her fingers were busy kneading and shaping and her voice encouraged the two small serious boys at their task. Kait’s face was the same as usual, affectionate, plain, expressionless. The surrounding atmosphere of violent death and constant fear seemed to affect her not at all…

  Hori had bidden Renisenb not to think, but with the best will in the world Renisenb could not obey. If Hori knew the enemy, if Esa had known the enemy, then there was no reason why she should not know the enemy too. She might be safer unknowing, but no human creature could be content to have it that way. She wanted to know.

  And it must be very easy–very easy indeed. Her father, clearly, could not desire to kill his own children. So that left–who did it leave? It left, starkly and uncompromisingly, two people, Kait and Henet.

  Women, both of them…

  And surely with no reason for killing…

  Yet Henet hated them all…Yes, undoubtedly Henet hated them. She had admitted hating Renisenb. So why should she not hate the others equally?

  Renisenb tried to project herself into the dim, tortured recesses of Henet’s brain. Living here, all these years, working, protesting her devotion, lying, spying, making mischief…Coming here, long ago, as the poor relative of a great and beautiful lady. Seeing that lovely lady happy with husband and children. Repudiated by her own husband, her only child dead…Yes, that might be the way of it. Like a wound from a spear thrust that Renisenb had once seen. It had healed quickly over the surface, but beneath evil matters had festered and raged and the arm had swollen and had gone hard to the touch. And then the physician had come and, with a suitable incantation, had plunged a small knife into the hard, swollen, distorted limb. It had been like the breaking down of an irrigation dyke. A great stream of evil smelling stuff had come welling out…

  That, perhaps, was like Henet’s mind. Sorrow and injury smoothed over too quickly–and festering poison beneath, ever swelling in a great tide of hate and venom.

  But did Henet hate Imhotep too? Surely not. For years she had fluttered round him, fawning on him, flattering him…He believed in her implicitly. Surely that devotion could not be wholly feigned?

  And if she were devoted to him, could she deliberately inflict all this sorrow and loss upon him?

  Ah, but suppose she hated him too–had always hated him. Had flattered him deliberately with a view to bringing out his weakness? Supposing Imhotep was the one she hated most? Then to a distorted, evil-ridden mind, what better pleasure could there be than this? To let him see his children die off one by one…

  ‘What is the matter, Renisenb?’ Kait was staring at her. ‘You look so strange.’

  Renisenb stood up.

  ‘I feel as though I were going to vomit,’ she said.

  In a sense it was true enough. The picture she had been conjuring up induced in her a strong feeling of nausea. Kait accepted the words at their face value.

  ‘You have eaten too many green dates–or perhaps the fish had turned.’

  ‘No, no, it is nothing I have eaten. It is the terrible thing we are living through.’

  ‘Oh, that.’

  Kait’s disclaimer was so nonchalant that Renisenb stared at her.

  ‘But, Kait, are you not afraid?’

  ‘No, I do not think so.’ Kait considered. ‘If anything happens to Imhotep, the children will be protected by Hori. Hori is honest. He will guard their inheritance for them.’

>   ‘Yahmose will do that.’

  ‘Yahmose will die, too.’

  ‘Kait, you say that so calmly. Do you not mind at all? I mean, that my father and Yahmose should die?’

  Kait considered for a moment or two. Then she shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘We are two women together–let us be honest. Imhotep I have always considered tyrannical and unfair. He behaved outrageously in the matter of his concubine–letting himself be persuaded by her to disinherit his own flesh and blood. I have never liked Imhotep. As to Yahmose, he is nothing. Satipy ruled him in every way. Lately, since she is gone, he takes authority on himself, gives orders. He would always prefer his children before mine–that is natural. So, if he is to die, it is as well for my children that it should be so–that is how I see it. Hori has no children and he is just. All these happenings have been upsetting–but I have been thinking lately that very likely they are all for the best.’

  ‘You can talk like that, Kait–so calmly, so coldly? When your own husband, whom you loved, was the first to be killed?’

  A faint expression of some indefinable nature passed over Kait’s face. She gave Renisenb a glance which seemed to contain a certain scornful irony.

  ‘You are very like Teti sometimes, Renisenb. Really, one would swear, no older!’

  ‘You do not mourn for Sobek.’ Renisenb spoke the words slowly. ‘No, I have noticed that.’

  ‘Come, Renisenb, I fulfilled all the conventions. I know how a newly made widow should behave.’

  ‘Yes–that was all there was to it…So–it means–that you did not love Sobek?’

  Kait shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Kait! He was your husband–he gave you children.’

  Kait’s expression softened. She looked down at the two small boys engrossed with the clay and then to where Ankh was rolling about chanting to herself and waving her little legs.

  ‘Yes, he gave me my children. For that I thank him. But what was he, after all? A handsome braggart–a man who was always going to other women. He did not take a sister, decently, into the household, some modest person who would have been useful to us all. No, he went to ill-famed houses, spending much copper and gold there, drinking too and asking for all the most expensive dancing girls. It was fortunate that Imhotep kept him as short as he did and that he had to account so closely for the sales he made on the estate. What love and respect should I have for a man like that? And what are men anyway? They are necessary to breed children, that is all. But the strength of the race is in the women. It is we, Renisenb, who hand down to our children all that is ours. As for men, let them breed and die early…’

  The scorn and contempt in Kait’s voice rose in a note like some musical instrument. Her strong, ugly face was transfigured.

  Renisenb thought with dismay:

  ‘Kait is strong. If she is stupid, it is with a stupidity that is satisfied with itself. She hates and despises men. I should have known. Once before I caught a glimpse of this–this menacing quality. Yes, Kait is strong–’

  Unthinkingly, Renisenb’s gaze fell to Kait’s hands. They were squeezing and kneading clay–strong, muscular hands, and as Renisenb watched them pushing down the clay, she thought of Ipy and of strong hands pushing his head down into the water and holding it there inexorably. Yes, Kait’s hands could have done that…

  The little girl, Ankh, rolled over on to a thorny spine and set up a wail. Kait rushed to her. She picked her up, holding her to her breast, crooning over her. Her face now was all love and tenderness. Henet came running out from the porch.

  ‘Is anything wrong? The child yelled so loud. I thought perhaps–’

  She paused, disappointed. Her eager, mean, spiteful face, hoping for some catastrophe, fell.

  Renisenb looked from one woman to the other.

  Hate in one face. Love in the other. Which, she wondered, was the more terrible?

  IV

  ‘Yahmose, be careful, be careful of Kait.’

  ‘Of Kait?’ Yahmose showed his astonishment. ‘My dear Renisenb–’

  ‘I tell you, she is dangerous.’

  ‘Our quiet Kait? She has always been a meek, submissive woman, not very clever–’

  Renisenb interrupted him.

  ‘She is neither meek nor submissive. I am afraid of her, Yahmose. I want you to be on your guard.’

  ‘Against Kait?’ He was still incredulous. ‘I can hardly see Kait dealing out death all round. She would not have the brains.’

  ‘I do not think that it is brains that are concerned. A knowledge of poisons, that is all that has been needed. And you know that such knowledge is often found amongst certain families. They hand it down from mother to daughter. They brew these concoctions themselves from potent herbs. It is the kind of lore that Kait might easily have. She brews medicines for the children when they are ill, you know.’

  ‘Yes, that is true.’ Yahmose spoke thoughtfully.

  ‘Henet too is an evil woman,’ went on Renisenb.

  ‘Henet–yes. We have never liked her. In fact, but for my father’s protection–’

  ‘Our father is deceived in her,’ said Renisenb.

  ‘That may well be.’ Yahmose added in a matter-of-fact tone, ‘She flatters him.’

  Renisenb looked at him for a moment in surprise. It was the first time she had ever heard Yahmose utter a sentence containing criticism of Imhotep. He had always seemed overawed by his father.

  But now, she realized, Yahmose was gradually taking the lead. Imhotep had aged by years in the last few weeks. He was incapable now of giving orders, of taking decisions. Even his physical activity seemed impaired. He spent long hours staring in front of him, his eyes filmed and abstracted. Sometimes he seemed not to understand what was said to him.

  ‘Do you think that she–’ Renisenb stopped. She looked round and began, ‘Is it she, do you think, who has–who is–?’

  Yahmose caught her by the arm.

  ‘Be quiet, Renisenb, these things are better not said–not even whispered.’

  ‘Then you too think–’

  Yahmose said softly and urgently:

  ‘Say nothing now. We have plans.’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SECOND MONTH OF SUMMER 17TH DAY

  The following day was the festival of the new moon. Imhotep was forced to go up to the Tomb, to make the offerings. Yahmose begged his father to leave it to him on this occasion, but Imhotep was obdurate. With what seemed now a feeble parody of his old manner, he murmured, ‘Unless I see to things myself, how can I be sure they are properly done? Have I ever shirked my duties? Have I not provided for all of you, supported you all–’

  His voice stopped. ‘All? All–? Ah, I forget–my two brave sons–my handsome Sobek–my clever and beloved Ipy. Gone from me. Yahmose and Renisenb–my dear son and daughter–you are still with me–but for how long–how long…’

  ‘Many long years, we hope,’ said Yahmose.

  He spoke rather loudly as to a deaf man.

  ‘Eh? What?’ Imhotep seemed to have fallen into a coma.

  He said suddenly and surprisingly:

  ‘It depends on Henet, does it not? Yes, it depends on Henet.’

  Yahmose and Renisenb exchanged glances.

  Renisenb said gently and clearly:

  ‘I do not understand you, father?’

  Imhotep muttered something they did not catch. Then, raising his voice, a little, but with dull and vacant eyes, he said:

  ‘Henet understands me. She always has. She knows how great my responsibilities are–how great…Yes, how great…And always ingratitude…Therefore there must be retribution. That, I think, is practice well established. Presumption must be punished. Henet has always been modest, humble and devoted. She shall be rewarded…’

  He drew himself up and said pompously:

  ‘You understand, Yahmose. Henet is to have all she wants. Her commands are to be obeyed!’

  ‘But why is this, father
?’

  ‘Because I say so. Because, if what Henet wants is done, there will be no more deaths…’

  He nodded his head sagely and went away–leaving Yahmose and Renisenb staring at each other in wonder and alarm.

  ‘What does this mean, Yahmose?’

  ‘I do not know, Renisenb. Sometimes I think my father no longer knows what he does or says…’

  ‘No–perhaps not. But I think, Yahmose, that Henet knows very well what she is saying and doing. She said to me, only the other day, that it would soon be she who would crack the whip in this house.’

  They looked at each other. Then Yahmose put his hand on Renisenb’s arm.

  ‘Do not anger her. You show your feelings too plainly, Renisenb. You heard what my father said? If what Henet wants is done–there will be no more deaths…’

  II

  Henet was crouching down on her haunches in one of the store rooms counting out piles of sheets. They were old sheets and she held the mark on the corner of one close up to her eyes.

  ‘Ashayet,’ she murmured. ‘Ashayet’s sheets. Marked with the year she came here–she and I together…That’s a long time ago. Do you know, I wonder, what your sheets are being used for now, Ashayet?’

  She broke off in the midst of a chuckle, and gave a start as a sound made her glance over her shoulder.

  It was Yahmose.

  ‘What are you doing, Henet?’

  ‘The embalmers need more sheets. Piles and piles of sheets they’ve used. Four hundred cubits they used yesterday alone. It’s terrible the way these funerals use up the sheeting! We’ll have to use these old ones. They’re good quality and not much worn. Your mother’s sheets, Yahmose–yes, your mother’s sheets…’

  ‘Who said you might take those?’

  Henet laughed.

  ‘Imhotep’s given everything into my charge. I don’t have to ask leave. He trusts poor old Henet. He knows she’ll see to everything in the right way. I’ve seen to most things in this house for a long time. I think–now–I’m going to have my reward!’

  ‘It looks like it, Henet.’ Yahmose’s tone was mild. ‘My father said,’ he paused, ‘everything depends on you.’

  ‘Did he now? Well that’s nice hearing–but perhaps you don’t think so, Yahmose.’