Murder in the Palace: A Nikolas of Kydonia Mystery

by Iain Campbell

  The most interesting answers came when Pa-ra-em-hat was questioned about Ra-em hotep’s health. Middle-aged, he had suffered from arthritis. The physician had prescribed aconite paste rubbed into the joints for its joint heating and anaesthetic properties.

  The prince also suffered bowel problems for which he had been prescribed hellebore and also took hemlock as a sedative to help his sleep.

  Nikolas said to Zineb, “It’s late and is now dark. I wish to retire. Please provide me with an escort home.”

  “You are to remain within the palace and resume your enquiries in the morning,” said Zineb abruptly.

  Nikolas was not happy, but replied, “So be it. Have your people show me and my people to my quarters.”

  T T T T

  ‘Well,’ thought Nikolas. ‘I can’t complain about the lodgings.’

  Quarters similar to the prince’s, but slightly less ornate, had been placed at his disposal.

  “Amos, one man on guard by the door all night. Did you bring weapons?”

  “Just a knife each and one for you.”

  “Better than nothing. Thanks, but I already have a knife. Please set the guard.”

  Moments later there was a knock on the door. Nikolas indicated to Amos to open the door and for the others to be ready. A young captain of the Royal Guard stood in the corridor, with several servants behind him carrying trays of food. “Captain Kahun, at your service!” he said cheerfully. “Apparently I’m required to assist you.”

  “Welcome, Captain! Please come in and take a seat!”

  The servants departed after leaving the food and drink on the table. Kahun was tall with short curly hair. He had a round pleasant face and spare build. A thin cicatrice from an old sword-wound showed on his bare chest. He was wearing a formal kilt and wrist-bracers. A bronze short-sword hung at his left hip.

  “I’ve supervised the food and drink preparation myself. It’s safe!” said Kahun with a smile. “Pharaoh is known to be hospitable.

  Do you and your men need company this night?”

  “I thank you, but think not,” said Nikolas, ignoring the scowls of his men.

  Just then there was another knock on the door. Lorentis, with an escort of two men, stood outside. Kahun waved the escort back into the corridor and said, “I asked Lady Lorentis to attend and assist if there were any language problems.”

  Amos and the others scowled again. “It’s alright for some…” Nikolas heard muttered.

  Being now less distracted than before, Nikolas was more appreciative than previously. Lorentis was small, of slender build. Her own hair was again hidden by a large formal Court wig of black human hair, which framed a beautiful elfin face with large brown eyes darkened with kohl makeup. She was bare-footed. As with most Egyptian ladies of high stature, her thin diaphanous dress hid very little at all. Nikolas found it very hard to look her in the eyes; his own eyes had a tendency to drop lower. “My lady,” he gasped.

  Kahun said, “Pharaoh is aware that you aren’t happy with the progress of your investigation and the assistance given, and has instructed me that you are to be given what resources are necessary.

  Specifically, I’m to be seconded to the secret-police and will work with you as required.”

  Nikolas indicated they should sit at table with the food, and handed the platters of bread, cold meat and vegetables firstly to his guests to help themselves onto their individual wooden plates, then helped himself before finally indicating to the guards to take the still-laden platters for themselves. Nikolas poured wine from a jug for himself and the guests. “Amos! Water or juice for the men.” More scowls. First sniffing the white wine, quite warm because of the weather, before then tasting, he thought ‘Hmm, not bad for a local vintage’.

  “Captain Kahun, I suggest we start by introducing ourselves. I’m Nikolas, second son of Arastas, Lord of Kydonia in Crete. I’m twenty-five. You’ll have noticed I suffered an injury in my youth, which leaves me somewhat slow of movement. I’ve studied herbalism in my own land and travelled to Egypt two years ago to learn of its herbs, and more particularly of the human body. I also have some knowledge of non-herbal substances. My own country views the human body differently and no study of it is really possible, so I came here to Egypt. I spend most of my time studying.

  I run a small apothecary’s practice and do some import / export to pay the bills.”

  “I’m Ahmose-Kahun, third son of Ankmahor the Nomarch of Atfih, near the Faiyum. I entered the army at fifteen and have progressed to captain. I’m now aged twenty-two.”

  Nikolas paused, considering the conciseness of the information, the obvious intelligence of Kahun and his progression in the very competitive ranks of the Royal Guard. While in the ancient world twenty-two was not young, captain was a very prestigious rank for somebody of relatively few years. “Married?” he queried.

  “No, but I have an ‘understanding’ with the family of a girl of suitable family, which will be taken up in due course.”

  Nikolas turned to the young woman who was sitting demurely on a stool next to the table. “I’m Lorentis, aged sixteen. Fourth daughter of Ptahmose, a minor noble at Sai in the Northern Shield Nome in the Delta. I’m second hand-maiden to Princess Abana,” she said without being asked.

  Nikolas paused, waiting for more information. When none was forthcoming he commented, “Speaking Greek is an unusual skill for a young Egyptian lady.”

  “My father believed in a wide education – for my brothers. I listened to the lessons and the pedagogue was good enough to spend some of his own time teaching me, as I was more receptive than my brothers!”

  “Indeed! And have you been with the princess for long?”

  “Six months so far. Twelve months is the usual time for such an appointment, but the princess is kind and I may stay longer.”

  Nikolas considered. “Any men in your life?”

  Lorentis coloured, looked down and shook her head demurely.

  Nikolas said, “Well Pharaoh would appear to expect the three of us to effect the virtually impossible, particularly when we have almost no information. I wasn’t sufficiently bad-mannered to mention to the Chamberlain that I understand the prince had a less than favourable reputation. I’ve heard he was a known philanderer, and no man’s wife was safe – not because of his fabulous personality, but because of his threats to use his power if sexual favours were not forthcoming.”

  Kahun added, “And the whole Court hated him. Khaemweset is the Crown prince and Pharaoh’s designated heir. He’s the High Priest of the Temple of Ptah here at Memphis. He’s done wonderful work for Egypt, but he’s over fifty years old – quite elderly and in poor health. Merneptah is the most likely to succeed. Ra-em hotep was also close to the throne. Ramesses’ long life and his vigour has blessed Egypt. Over fifty years wearing the Crowns of the Two Lands, nearly eighty years old and with a hundred sons to carry on after him. But the very benefit of his long life means many of his children are now already old and many have already died.

  Everybody loves Khaemweset, he’s caring and attentive to the needs of the Nation. Ra-em hotep was a shit, only concerned about his penis and his weird urges. As a member of the royal family Ra-em hotep was a disaster waiting to happen.”

  Nikolas considered. “So! For suspects to kill Ra-em hotep, we have the whole royal family and any other public-minded person in the country, plus anybody in a family which may have had a woman abused by him. That should make it easy to find the killer! If in fact he was killed…which we haven’t proven yet,” he added sardonically.

  After the guests had left Nikolas sat for several hours at a table with pen and papyrus, oily lamp-smoke thickening the air of the room. ‘Aconite,’ he mused. ‘White powder that will only dissolve properly in alcohol or acid. Deadly poison. Similar symptoms to that shown by the prince. Possibly Hemlock, but the taste and smell should have caused concern. Not arsenic, because there was no vomiting or muscle spasms. Belladonna – maybe. Cyanide? Quails…what do I rem
ember about quails?’

  T T T T

  Nikolas woke, momentarily disorientated by his unfamiliar surroundings. He thought ‘Noise; strange noise’. He tried to recall what it was that he’d heard which had caused his concern. His hand reached under the pillow and grasped the bronze knife hidden there, drawing it from its leather scabbard. He sat up and looked across the room, bathed in moonlight shining through the open window.

  A small leather bag lay on the floor near the window, seemingly flat and empty.

  Without moving his head, Nikolas cast his eyes around for any threat. A slight rustling sound came from the reed mat between the window and the bed. A small movement of the head aligned Nikolas’ eyes, which widened when they saw a sinuous shape moving across the room. Pitching his voice carefully, to convey urgency and evoke immediate response while not making too much noise, Nikolas called: “Amos!”

  A few moments later the door opened slightly and a sleepy voice said “Master…?” It was Djedi, his body servant.

  Nikolas said quietly, but intensely. “Have Amos get the palace guard outside the door to call for a snake-catcher. Have the rooms above checked and the guards in the courtyard below questioned and close the door now!”

  Nikolas had noticed another long shape moving along the wall near the door. He was sitting in the middle of the bed and slowly drew his knees to his chest to make himself smaller, putting his arms lightly around the knees, his right hand holding the single-edged knife. He heard commotion and shouting first in the corridor and then outside through the open window.

  A small hooded head slowly raised itself above the edge of the bed, just below where Nikolas’ feet were. It rocked slowly side to side, tongue flicking and tasting the air. The cobra had certainly not enjoyed being thrown into the room in the bag.

  ‘No movement; I’m not here; I don’t look like a mouse; you can’t eat me!’ he thought, semi-hysterically, but at the same time hyped-up and ready to strike with the knife if the snake rose further to strike at him. The head slowly lowered and disappeared. After what seemed like days, Nikolas heard voices outside. He recognized the voice of Kahun, followed by others he didn’t know and then that of Lorentis. The door opened slowly and a small man carrying a forked stick slowly entered, closing the door again behind him.

  “There are at least two,” said Nikolas. “I think one is under the bed. One was by the wall over there,” nodding towards the far wall.

  “I can’t see it now.”

  “Relax, Master. I am Mehny the snake-charmer. I do this all the time, although usually out in the desert! It’s fortunate for you that I was meeting with Pharaoh’s physician when the call came.”

  Mehny slowly glided across the room and with a quick stab of the forked stick caught one cobra behind the head, pressing down with the stick to hold the thrashing reptile immobile before he grasped it with his hand and put the writhing and coiling beast into a linen bag hanging from his belt. The snake was at least 3 cubits long, as long as a man was tall, and the bag beat against his thigh as he moved across the room, slightly impeding his walk. Mehny slowly bent and looked under the bed.

  “Yes, one there,” He slowly turned his head to carefully scan the rest of the room. “And one under the table. Either somebody doesn’t seem to like you, or you have an irresistible charm for snakes and should take up my profession!” he grinned.

  “No thanks; you’re welcome to it!” said Nikolas.

  “I’ll take the one under the table first. That one is easier,” said Mehny. Nikolas nodded. He’d have preferred the one under the bed, but thought ‘Life is full of little disappointments.’

  Mehny positioned himself near the table, reached under the table, slowly moved the stick, and … missed!

  Mehny cursed furiously. In his short stay in the country Nikolas had picked up a reasonable grasp of the more colloquial and colourful language and its curses, the latter mainly in low-class drinking houses, but many of these were words that Nikolas had not heard before and he momentarily regretted he didn’t have the time to discuss linguistics. He had the impression he was missing out on the best efforts of a master. The snake shot out from under the table like an arrow from a bow, straight at Mehny. Mehny threw a cloth he was holding in his left hand over the head of the cobra and, quick as a flash, grasped it behind the head. The cobra coiled itself around his arm, seeking to get purchase on his neck. Mehny calmly raised his arm and suddenly straightened it, cracking the snake like a whip.

  With a loud crunch of vertebra, the cobra stopped moving. Rather than placing it in the bag, Mehny casually tossed it out the open window.

  “One to go. Now this one is a real bitch; I can’t reach him with the stick and pin him down; all I could do is irritate him some more.”

  “Don’t irritate him. I got the impression when we ‘talked’ before that he already wasn’t happy.”

  Mehny grinned; evilly, thought Nikolas. “Perhaps he’s thirsty and we could give him milk?” said Nikolas hopefully. Mehny chuckled; evilly, thought Nikolas. “Maybe not,” said Nikolas.

  Mehny said, “We need to do two things. One is to get your little Greek arse out of this room alive, and the other is to catch the snake.

  We can’t have it running around the guest quarters and it’s easier to catch it if you know where it is!”

  “Frankly, I’m more worried about the first thing than the second.”

  “Ah! But professionally I’m more worried about the second. And I really don’t know you all that well!”

  Nikolas’ now hyper-sensitive hearing caught several conversations going on in the room next door, without being able to make sense of them, making it harder to concentrate. ‘Get focused!’ he thought. “Suggestions?” he asked.

  “Well, you could jump off the bed, race across the room and throw yourself out of the window and maybe beat the cobra. You may, or may not, survive the fall. It’s only two storeys. Or you can draw the snake out and maybe I can catch him before he bites you.”

  “So far you have a one out of two record of getting it right, that I’ve seen,” said Nikolas.

  “Oh! I am an absolute virtuoso. I’m just having a bad night so far. I’m sure it will get better,” said Mehny encouragingly. “Trust me.”

  Nikolas hated people telling him to trust them. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Make a scrabbling noise on the bed, like a mouse. When he sticks his head up to look, wham! I get him!”

  “Like a mouse?”

  “Yes!”

  “With respect, that idea stinks!”

  “Can you think of any other way to get off the bed without having your ankles chewed?”

  “Hmm.”

  “Just one thing. No using your knife. If we’re both going for the snake, a one-handed snake-catcher, looking for his lost hand, isn’t much good. Do you hear?”

  “It’s your way, or no way?” asked Nikolas.

  “Damn right!” said Mehny.

  “Let’s do it!”

  Nikolas used the nails on the fingers of his left hand to make scratching noises near the middle of the bed. His right hand firmly grasped the knife. No mad snake-catching Egyptian was going to make him give that up.

  Nothing happened in response to the noise.

  “What sort of noise does a desert mouse make? Should I be squeaking?”

  “They normally only do that when they are being eaten, so probably not a good idea at the moment! Try again.”

  Nikolas tried again.

  “By the boils on Seth’s shit-smeared backside, it’s working. Keep going!” encouraged Mehny.

  The hooded head slowly appeared next to the edge of the bed, tongue flicking evilly, as it curiously sought what was making the sound. With a swift dab of the arm, Mehny pinned the neck of the snake against the side of the bed. Nikolas shot off like an arrow from a bow and headed towards the door, before turning to watch the snake-catcher put the snake into his bag.

  “What do you do with them?” he asked. />
  “Well, they fry up beautifully with onions and garlic,” said Mehny with a smile.

  Nikolas grasped Mehny’s right arm, then gave him a quick hug as the door opened and the room filled with people.

  “Kahun!” said Nikolas, as they grasped forearms. “We really need to do something about security around here! Anything found outside?”

  “Nothing in the chambers upstairs and the guards report nothing from the courtyard.”

  “So they are either very clever or somebody is lying. That bag was either dropped on a rope from above or thrown from below. At least we now know the answer about whether Ra-em hotep was murdered!” said Nikolas.

  CHAPTER 2 – INVESTIGATIONS

  Year 52. Month Ipi-Ipi. 3rd Shomu.

  Mid-June 1223 BC

  “Anything of use from the investigation of the servants?” asked Nikolas at breakfast the following morning.

  Kahun replied, “Two have disappeared, either crocodile food or frightened for their lives, five have been tortured to death uselessly by the secret-police – which means that those who ran knew what they were doing. Nothing from the rest. I’m not sure you are right about the palm-date wine,” he added.

  “Why?” asked Nikolas.

  “Zineb had some given to a convicted prisoner, he drank quite a lot and promptly became quite ill with breathing problems, gasping for air and so on… He survived, until he was finished off by other means. Well, he was going to die today anyway, certainly more painfully than with the poison, so why waste perfectly good expensive pet monkeys, as you suggested? The prince was generally in quite good health and a bull of a man. He was in much better health than the prisoner was. If something in the wine only made the prisoner ill, Ra-em hotep should have been able to either have shaken it off or at least been able to have called for help.”

  Nikolas shuddered to think at what had happened after his casual comment, although the option made perfect sense, from a certain point of view.

  “And no idea how the wine made its way to Ra-em hotep’s room?” asked Nikolas.