Murder in the Palace: A Nikolas of Kydonia Mystery

by Iain Campbell

  “No theft?” asked Nikolas, somewhat surprised at the extent of trouble the ‘heavy men’ of his guards had got into recently.

  “Only from you,” said Djedi with unusual candor – perhaps he was more worried that he seemed. “The occasional jar of wine, sack of grain… the usual stuff employees do.”

  Nikolas frowned and grunted. “That stops now. Tell the men that they’re paid well. I don’t steal from them. If they steal from me, they’re out on the street. That includes you!”

  The journey to the palace took about twenty minutes. As well as being confused by the whole situation, Nikolas felt apprehensive as he was ushered though a small side-gate set in the huge whitewashed mud-brick wall surrounding the palace.

  Rather than entering the main complex, the party was lead to a side annex and passed into a large hall filled with minor officials sitting cross-legged on the floor, scribing on sheets of papyrus from the pallets of ink and pens placed on the floor before them. A buzz of industrious conversation filled the room. Despite obviously being a workroom for minor officials, the walls of the hall were painted in multicoloured hues and with frescos that Nikolas noted were of reasonable workmanship.

  Just inside the hall the officer turned and raised a hand to stay Nikolas’ companions. “You stay here in the hall with my men. You,” pointing at Nikolas, “come with me.” He gestured for Nikolas to follow him towards a door at the side of the room. By now Nikolas wasn’t sure whether to be worried by this unexpected series of events or angry at the way he was being treated. Either way he was not happy.

  Through the doorway was a small and more lavishly decorated room. Zineb was seated on a stool behind a low table. After a brief pause he put aside the sheet of papyrus he had been reading and rubbed the palm of his right hand over his eyes, massaging his temples briefly with the unconscious action of a man who has been reading cramped writing for several hours. “Well, Greek, are you Nikolas?” he demanded, tilting his head in enquiry. He remained seated as Nikolas stood before the table.

  Nikolas bridled. “Well, Egyptian, I am Nikolas the Cretan. Who may you be?”

  “I am imy-xnt per aa Zineb, Chief Chamberlain of the Royal Household,” came the reply. Zineb paused theatrically, clearly expecting his statement to cause wonder and fear. By now Nikolas was thoroughly annoyed but was reining in his temper at the cavalier attitude being displayed to him.

  “Well Zineb, I am Nikolas, second son of the Lord of Kydonia in Crete. We Cretans don’t appreciate being called Greeks, but do accept the use of the general term ‘Achaean’. Frankly, your welcome leaves me somewhat underwhelmed. I’ve come to expect better from Egyptian hospitality. Unless you have some specific complaint about me, I’ll take my leave and return home.”

  Zineb paused before replying, astonished at this treatment of his great magnificence. “I understand that you are Nikolas the Apothecary, and Pharaoh requests your assistance.”

  “Indeed? Then why isn’t he asking me?” demanded Nikolas.

  “I, and others, handle such matters for him,” replied Zineb blandly, looking down at the table and brushing off some crumbs with a gesture of distain.

  “Things are much easier dealing with a king who doesn’t think he’s a god,” Nikolas muttered. Zineb’s face darkened with anger at the comment. Nikolas continued. “If you want my assistance, what is this for?”

  “The Divine Ramesses’fourth son, Ra-em hotep, has been found dead with no apparent cause.”

  “Has he indeed? What has that to do with me?” demanded Nikolas, musing to himself ‘The gods know Ramesses has enough children to populate a city! He should hardly miss just one.’

  Zineb’sface darkened further. “It is believed he may have been poisoned, and it has been suggested that you should be consulted for your opinion.”

  Nikolas said “Given your attitude, and sending armed soldiers drag me here with no warning and no polite message, I think that indicates to me you don’t want my ‘opinion’” However, Nikolas’ interest was piqued. Being asked to investigate a royal death could only be described as unusual. He continued. “I am Nikolas and I’ve made a study of plants, herbs and other substances. Whether I can be of assistance… depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “Your attitude, mainly. And what assistance I’m expected to give, and what assistance I receive.”

  Zineb paused, inspected his fingernails and without looking at Nikolas he took a deep breath as he obviously mentally reviewed his instructions before continuing. “Divine Ramesses’ wish is that you view the body and advise what you find.”

  “And what’s in it for me to be involved in the machinations of Court?”

  “Pharaoh is most generous,” replied Zineb, spreading his hands palms upwards, his whole manner indicating disdain and arrogance.

  “Can we be more specific here? You’ve indicated you want to perhaps a couple of hours of my time. I really don’t see that there’s a lot to be generous about, or to justify whatever risk I may have in finding whatever I may find. If I find the prince was killed, I’m at risk from whoever did it. If I find nothing, what is there to be generous about?”

  Zineb repeated, with emphasis but more politely, “Pharaoh is generous, and requests your assistance.”

  Nikolas paused and considered the words and tone used, and the current circumstances including the soldiers in the hall outside. He quickly came to the conclusion ‘requests’ meant ‘requires’. At least the tone of the conversation had improved. “Very well; I’ll view the body and advise Pharaoh of what I find. For that I seek no reward but will make no further commitment. My report will be to Pharaoh, not you. I don’t want any misunderstandings about whatever I find, and I don’t want to be involved in palace politics. I do ask one thing; my use of the Egyptian language is reasonably good, but for this… complex… situation, where clear understanding is needed, I need somebody to assist in translation. Please arrange this.”

  T T T T

  After sitting in a waiting room for several minutes while arrangements were made, Nikolas walked into the annex where Ra-em hotep’s body lay, flanked by Zineb and several of the latter’s minions. The room was of middling size, bare of furniture except three large tables, on one of which a naked body lay face upwards.

  A cloud of incense drifted from a censer burner on a side table, its sharp perfume hanging heavily on the air. Nine men, three in priest’s robes, were crowded into the room, standing on the far side of the table bearing the body.

  As Nikolas passed though the doorway, he stopped short, closed his eyes and looked upwards as if seeking divine assistance. “What’s going on here?” he demanded sternly.

  “Ra-em hotep is being prepared for the afterlife,” replied Zineb evenly, with a small frown as if he didn’t quite understand Nikolas’ question.

  “Yes! And has been stripped, washed and anointed! How am I expected to find anything when the body has been messed with?”

  “Do as you are told, Greek!” barked Zineb aggressively, his face reddening with anger.

  Nikolas turned and approached Zineb, bending to thrust his own face within inches of that of the official. “You seem determined to make sure that there is no finding!” he said quietly, before continuing and looking at the faces of the three accompanying officials as he did so. “Perhaps you have some interest in the matter?”

  Zineb turned apoplectic. “Godless, whoreson, motherless Greek!” he shouted.

  Nikolas smiled, tilted his head as he considered and paused before replying with a small smile. “None right out of four insults isn’t too good, but mainly you need to get better rhythm in your cursing and abuse. I’d have thought you’d have had more experience and be better at abusing people. Most street prostitutes of my acquaintance could do better! I’ll examine the body and report. We’ll see what happens after that.” Nikolas was thinking that it was clearly time to end his Egyptian studies and return home to Crete.

  After a slight delay, Nikolas was all
owed into the room and approached the catafalque. ‘All right, no need to worry about clothes. They’re gone,’ he mused. He examined the front of the body closely, and turned. “I need a scribe as note-taker,” he said, and saw a scribe in the corner nod in acknowledgement. Nikolas indicated the scribe should move next to him. “Have we found a translator yet?”

  Zineb nodded and motioned for a young female attendant to move forward. “Lady Lorentis, a hand-maiden of the Princess Abana. She speaks Greek and can assist.”

  Nikolas raised a hand slightly in a gesture of welcome, looking vaguely in her direction without paying much attention. He was finding it increasingly difficult to cope with the complexities of what was happening and the situation into which he had suddenly been thrust. He addressed Lorentis. “Please listen to what I say. If it doesn’t make sense, tell me. Scribe – take notes: Large heavily-set middle-aged adult male. Obese. Initial observation, without incisions. No obvious body spasms. Observations of head – no obvious abnormalities. No rictus, bruising, swelling or abnormalities of facial appearance. Face not blue. Observations of mouth; appears to have bitten tongue and cheeks in extremis. Tongue and throat not swollen.”

  Nikolas bent closely over the body and sniffed the mouth. “No noticeable smell in the mouth, but the perfumed unguents already used on the body make detection of faint smells impossible. Torso; no obvious abnormalities. Belly; several apparent flea bites. Genitals; no obvious abnormalities.” Lorentis blushed prettily when translating. “Legs; slight swelling. Turn the body over.” A pause as this occurred. “Post-morbid lividity indicates death was face up. Skin overall perhaps slightly pink.”

  “Excuse me, what does that mean?” asked Lorentis timidly.

  “The appearance of a body changes after death, with different characteristics showing at different times. In this case, you’ll see that the back of the body is darker in colour, meaning that the blood has flowed down from the front of the body after death. Pink skin indicates death may have been caused by asphyxia – not being able to breathe.” Nikolas turned to Zineb and asked, “Did the prince have a florid complexion, or does the skin appear more red than usual to you?”

  Zineb paused and replied. “No, he had a swarthy complexion.”

  Nikolas continued. “Head; normal. Neck; apparent puncture mark, possibly from insect bite, near left shoulder. Back, buttocks and legs; no apparent abnormalities.” He placed his hand flat on the torso and attempted to move the arms and legs. “Rigor mortis is present and the body cold, or at least as cold as it can be in this weather. He’s been dead at least six hours. At what time was he found?”

  “Shortly after sunrise, when servants went to wake and bathe him,” Zineb replied. It was now mid-afternoon, perhaps nine hours later.

  “Are the servants here now?”

  “No, they’re currently being detained and questioned.”

  “I must know details about the initial presentation of the corpse. Please see that they are present when we inspect the room.”

  A longer pause. “One of the servants has not survived the questioning and I understand that the other two are not in very good condition,” said Zineb.

  Nikolas scowled. “I must know the details of the appearance of the body when it was first seen. Fetch them – and make sure that there are no more fatalities amongst the witnesses. I’ll also need full details of what the prince ate and drank, and when. I trust that the kitchen staff and waiters have all survived?” he asked sarcastically.

  “I’ll have to make enquiries of that,” said Zineb blandly.

  “I presume that the prince will be prepared for the Afterlife in the normal way?” Nikolas asked. Zineb nodded. “I want to attend and see the contents of the stomach on removal and the removal of the body’s organs.” He then walked towards the door. “Now let’s see the room where he was found.”

  They entered the prince’s apartments. They were large, airy and lavishly decorated with beautiful, sometimes graphic, formal frescos of hunting scenes. Nikolas stopped at the doorway and began to dictate to the scribe what he saw. Lorentis occasionally interjected, after brief discussions in Greek with Nikolas, to clarify comments.

  “From the entry, view of reception area. Table and four chairs. Basket of fruit on the table; place fruit on one side for further examination. Inner sitting room; table and another four chairs; decorations; two large bouquets of flowers in vases. Basket of dates and grapes on the table; jug of liquid refreshment – full.” Nikolas approached and sniffed “Fruit juice. Six unused mugs, placed upside down. Place juice and fruit aside for further examination. Three bedrooms; one apparently used by guards, three sleeping pallets used; one bedroom unused. Main bedroom; large wooden bed, feather mattress, wooden neck-support, side tables and two chairs.

  Bed has been stripped of linen. Zineb, why has everything been interfered with? What was the bed like? Was it soiled?”

  Zineb called out to somebody waiting in the hallway near the door.

  A few moments later two men in loincloths were partly dragged and partly assisted into the room. Livid bruises and smeared blood covered their bodies. They moved with difficulty and needed assistance to stand. Nikolas was disgusted. ‘I must remember not to be a witness in a criminal case in this land’ he muttered to himself. He repeated his question to the servants.

  “No, sir,” they both said, in unison.

  “Body clothed or naked?”

  “Naked sir, as was usual,” said one.

  “And alone?”

  “Last night yes, but not normally. He said he was not feeling well and wanted to rest.”

  “Zineb, by Zeus’s hairy balls! Do I have to drag every shred of information out? Why can’t I be provided with the information you have? Clearly you already know these basics!” Nikolas paused to regain control, breathed deeply three times and then continued to address the servants. “Describe how you found him.”

  “He was lying on his back, appearing to be asleep but his eyes were open. The linen sheet had been kicked aside and lay on the floor,” said one of the servants.

  “Did you touch him?” asked Nikolas.

  The taller of the servants looked at him as if he was mad. “Of course not, Sir! None but a body servant may touch royalty. We called for the Royal Physician,” he added, nodding towards a tall and thin gloomy individual in a slightly dirty white robe standing in the room to one side of the door.

  “I’ll speak to him in private shortly,” said Nikolas.

  Further questioning revealed that the final meal of the prince had been a favourite dish of his; marinated quail with wheaten bread, fried broad beans and green salad, eaten shortly after dark the evening before with a small dinner party. None of the other diners appeared to have suffered any ill-effects. The kitchen staff were not available for Nikolas to question. Several had died under questioning, some had fled before arrest and the remainder were ‘indisposed’. This time Zineb related the story of the food from preparation to delivery to the room and stated himself satisfied that no interference with the food had taken place. The drink was another matter; the palm-date wine, another favourite of the prince, had been stored in an area generally accessible to servants and after being drawn from the amphora the jug had been left unattended for a short while.

  Nikolas continued his inspection of the room. “Jug of liquid on the table by side of the bed, nearly empty.” He approached and sniffed. “Smells like palm-date wine. Zineb, I’ve viewed the prince’s body and the room where he died. Your own people have questioned the servants and others about the origin and handling of the food and drink. Now I need a place to examine the remaining food and drink and to talk to the physician.”

  Nikolas was lead to a nearby small room and the food items and jugs were placed on a table. There were two chairs. Nikolas took one chair and indicated to Lorentis to take the other. She deferred until another chair was brought for Zineb. The fruit was carefully examined, piece by piece; the grapes took a long time. Looking at the jug
s of juice and palm-date wine Nikolas asked “Do we have any monkeys or other animals to try these on?” Zineb nodded and indicated to a servant to take the jugs away.

  Nikolas inclined his head towards the Royal Physician, who had been pacing up and down the corridor outside impatiently. On questioning he advised his name was Pa-ra-em-hat and was wer swnw per aa, Chief of Doctors supervising the small team of doctors to the royal court. His own speciality was the belly. His co-doctors were Dehuti-necht, a chest specialist and surgeon, and Ausas, the royal swnw irty or eye doctor. There was also Paser, a ibeh dentist who was not a doctor and was much looked down on by the swnw. All were swnw per aa Doctors of the Palace, with Pa-ra-em-hat having held that position for the four years after his return from the Hittite Court where he has been sent by Ramesses as a favour to Karunta, King of the Tarhuntas. As Nikolas couldn’t view the scene of death as it had stood at the time he had to obtain the vital information through the eyes of those who had been there, so he questioned Pa-ra-em-hat closely.

  Yes, the body had been unclothed, lying on its back with the linen sheet apparently kicked aside. No, there had been no signs of struggle. No, there had been no vomiting, diarrhoea or signs of muscle spasm, including no contraction of facial muscles. Yes, rigor mortis had by then started to set in on the upper body and the skin had started to go purple on the lower side of the body, the blood coagulating. Yes, the eye corneas had gone opaque; pupils were dilated. No, he couldn’t agree that this indicated that death had likely taken place about six to eight hours before the initial examination – he had no idea what it meant. No, the guards stated that they’d heard nothing until called by the servants after dawn. Again, the guards were not available for questioning.