City of the Dead (17 page)

Ebo is waiting beside the donkeys. Three beasts are already gone, and he tells us that some of the others have fled back to the royal estate. We decide to follow, and I think that I should be glad for more time alone with Merit. But a shadow has passed over us all. Even Ebo is not himself. Merit and I return, with only the startled bird calls in the marsh behind us to break our silence. Halfway home, the clouds roll back and Merit pulls a packet of honey-sweetened cakes from her pouch. She shares one with me. The sticky sweetness sickens.

Merit and I part inside the quiet pillared hall of the estate, each to our own quarters. I try to rest then, but my dreams disturb me.

I am waiting for ma’at.

And then the summons comes. We assemble in the audience hall, like restless greyhounds. All of us except Amunet. Our parents are tight-lipped and stern. The painted scenes on the high walls look down on us.

“Amunet has not yet returned,” Pharaoh Sneferu says. “We have sent servants to search the marsh.”

Tamit’s brow is furrowed and she chews her bottom lip. I take a deep breath and stare at the floor.

“I do not understand,” the queen says, “why she was left alone.”

Tamit shakes her head. “But she was not! She returned here with Hemi and Merit.” She looks to me.

Merit speaks. “We never saw her, Tamit. Not after she and Khufu left to be alone.” Merit’s voice drops at the last few words. I glance at Sneferu, but his dark eyes are on his son.

Tamit also turns on him. “You said that she had returned with Hemi and Merit.”

Khufu lifts his shoulders. “That is what she told me she planned. We—we had a disagreement. And she was tired of the hunt. She said she would return with them.” He points to me.

Sneferu looks me over. “And you and Merit were together all this time?”

Except for when she ran from me.

The entrance of three servants ends the questioning. Between them, they carry something wrapped in linen. Even across the hall, I can see that blood soaks the linen. A tremor flickers at the back
of my knees. I feel Merit’s light touch on my arm, steadying me. It is not simply the sight of the blood, however. It is the realization that when I left her, there was no blood.

Behind me, Tamit shrieks.

She runs for the bundle as they lower it to the ground. “No!” One of the servants steps in front of Tamit, blocking her. “Let me see!” she screams. “I must see her.”

The servant lifts his eyes to the rest of us and shakes his head furiously. My mother flies to Tamit’s side and wraps arms around her.

“Come, dear. There is nothing you can do. Do not cause yourself more pain—”

“I want to know! I must see for myself!” Tamit jerks from my mother’s comfort, lunges for the linen coverings, and rips them away.

The silence of the hall goes on and on as each one of us faces the awful truth.

Only pieces of Amunet remain.

Tamit throws her head back and opens her mouth wide in one long, piercing wail. The sound echoes from the walls and ceiling of the hall and reminds me of the birds in the marsh.

I taste bile in my mouth overpowering the sweetness of the honey cakes that still lingers. And then I am retching, in front of them all.

The servants cover Amunet and carry the body from the room. Tamit is stretched on the floor where her sister’s body has just lain. The rest of us stand silent amid the room’s stony lifelessness.

Tamit rises slowly and faces Khufu. “What,” she growls, “have you done?”

Khufu spreads his hands before him. “I swear to you, Tamit, she was alive when last I saw her. There was evil in the sky. I—I do not know what happened!”

Tamit screams again and throws herself at the future king. It is my father who intervenes this time, pulling her from Khufu and pinning her arms.

In the ensuing silence, we all wait on Sneferu. The burden of decision is heavy on him, we can see. He studies Tamit, studies Khufu. Surveys the rest of us. We are all silent, with eyes averted. Like young children discovered playing at tipcats in a forbidden temple. I find my brother watching me with hard eyes.

Finally, Sneferu speaks. “What is done, is done. We can do nothing for Amunet now. It is clear that a crocodile has been the cause of her death. A grievous accident.” His gaze travels the room, until he has the attention of all. “An accident,” he repeats. He lets the word hang there in the hall, roll over each of us. Even Tamit, who is still held in Father’s grip. Sneferu brings his attention to rest upon Tamit. “We will give Amunet all the honor she deserves—”

“You cannot repair her body!” Tamit shouts, with the foolish disrespect of youth.

“All the honor she deserves,” Sneferu continues, watching Tamit. “But we will never speak again of this day.” He looks at each of us. “Never again, do you understand? You are the future of Egypt, each of you in your own way. You are Egypt. Nothing can be allowed to disrupt the way of this.” His eyes go back to Tamit. “If ever I hear of accusations, of rumors of accusations, of gossip of any kind about this day, there will be repercussions. I will not allow Egypt’s future,” here he glances at Khufu, “to be harmed.”

We all look at Khufu then, but his head is dropped upon his chest.

And so in that moment, we all make a choice, each one of us. The choice to remain silent. To ask no questions. To keep a secret. For the good of Egypt.

Or so we believe.

But it was not for the good of Egypt. And not for my good either.

When morning came, I stirred from my cramped position at the prison wall and tried to stretch the painful knots from my back and legs. The sun was still low on the horizon and sent its rays down the shaft into our chamber. The shadow of the gate’s bars lay like stripes of lashes upon my body.

The hopelessness of the night still held me captive, but in the daylight I decided that even if the world were indeed chaos and the gods an invention of man, still I wanted to live. And I wanted to be free.

My cell mate lay unconscious on the other side of the chamber, and I should have thought him dead if not for his raspy snoring.

Some time later I heard a guard approach and leaped to my feet to meet him at the gate. He was a large man, heavy about the jowls and middle, and he carried two puny haunches of meat in one hand and a jug of beer in the other. He lowered his head in respect toward me, then pulled himself upright, as if embarrassed by the force of his habit.

“The captain has ordered extra rations for you, Vizier.” He pushed the food through the bar. “It’s more than he ever gets.” The guard jutted his chin toward Wati, still lying in the brown muck behind me, who chose that moment to moan something about the noise.

“Come and eat, you ungrateful dog!” I’d listened to his death rattle all night. To the guard, I said, “You must send for the king, to come and speak to me. I have things that he must hear.”

Beside me, Wati appeared and tore at the gooseflesh. The guard tipped the jug of beer and spilled a few drops into the man’s greedy mouth. He motioned for me to do the same, but I had no intention of letting him spill beer all over me. “The king,” I said. “It is critical that I speak to him.”

“My orders are to guard the cell and bring you food. That’s all.” He tipped the jug once more and I shook my head. He shrugged. “I will be back tonight.”

“The priest then, man! Send me a priest!”

He hesitated, and I sensed he must be devout in his own religion. I reached a hand through the bars, grasped his arm. The sight of my filthy hand on his clean flesh startled me.

He pulled away. “When you are summoned, then you will speak. It is not my place to do the summoning.”

“My men! Surely you don’t wish the Horizon of Khufu to be delayed because the grand vizier is not present to direct it. Send for my overseers. Khons. Or De’de or Senosiris.”

But the guard had disappeared up the shaft without a word.

It was hours before I heard footsteps in the shaft again. I closed my eyes, trying to force the appearance of Khufu with the strength of my will. Yet when I opened my eyes, the face at the gate was even more welcome.

“Neferet!” I staggered to my feet and threw myself to the bars.

She wore a dress of sunny yellow today, with pale blue stitching along the straps, and tiny yellow flowers woven into her hair. She was like the open sky, and I reached for her.

But she stood apart and I saw the creases between her eyes. I dropped my hand, suddenly cold.

“I do not understand any of this, Hemi,” she said. “One day you are trying to hunt the murderer, and the next you are accused of his crimes.” Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and the heartbreaking doubt on her face left me hollow.

“Neferet, look at me. You know me. You know I could not have done this.”

She inclined her head and sighed. “Do I know you, Hemiunu? It has only been such a short—”

“You know me.” I drew up close to the bars and looked into her eyes. “You know me.”

She moved toward me then, reached through an open space just above her waist and intertwined her fingers with mine. “I am dirty,” I whispered.

She shook her head. “What can I do, Hemi? How can I get you out of here?”

I smiled. “A moment ago you were accusing me—”

She squeezed my fingers. “I only needed to hear you say it. I already knew the truth.” She glanced over her shoulder, up the shaft, and leaned in. “I have a plan,” she said. “I will bring food to the guard, something that will make him sick. When he has fallen or run for the weeds, I will unlock—”

“Absolutely not,” I said. Her shoulders fell and a pout formed on her lips. “Keep your crazy schemes for the day of my execution.”
She gasped. “I did not mean that. But I will not allow you to also become a prisoner. Besides, what good will it do to break me out? Where would I go? I must clear my name.”

“Tell me what to do,” she said.

“Go to my brother. Find out why the king has put me here and what he plans. Someone has given him false information to accuse me, and I need to know what it is before I can fight it.”

Neferet nodded. “Do you need anything? Food? Water?”

“I am fine. But listen,” I held both her hands now. “Go quietly to Ahmose. I do not want you involved in this. I trust him, but I do not know who might be watching. Do you understand?”

“I will be careful. I promise.” She pulled her hands from mine too soon but then reached one hand through the bars and cupped my cheek. “Do not fear, Grand Vizier,” she said. “I still believe in justice. And I will find it for you.”

It was midday when she returned. I had slept in pieces in the mud and felt disjointed and grimy. I dragged myself to the gate to hear her news.

“I spoke to Ahmose, Hemi. I tried to convince him of your innocence. It seemed a strange thing to have to say to a brother. He is much confused by all of this.”

“We have many years of misunderstanding between us, I’m afraid. I hope to put it right.”

“He is a good man.”

“Yes. Yes, I believe he is.”

“But he knows nothing, Hemi. He says that after you left the king’s audience hall last night, he went straight to his own estate and heard nothing more. I was the first to tell him of your imprisonment. I think it was being kept from him.”

I frowned. “How did you hear—”

“Gossip travels quickly among the laborers and soldiers. Those who brought you here last night were eager to tell their tale.”

“I am sure.” I paced in front of the gate, debating my options.

“What shall I do now, Hemi? Do you want me to get my father?”

“Your father would do no good now. I must find a way to speak to Khufu.”

“I will go to the king.”

“No. No, it is not safe for you to be seen as my ally. I cannot risk having you also pulled into this.”

Neferet unstrapped a pouch she carried and opened it. She passed me a parcel of food through the bars, then a small skin of water, and lastly a papyrus and ink. “Write a message to the king. I will carry it.”

“Neferet, I cannot—”

“Hemi.” She held my gaze. “I will not sit by and watch you be falsely accused. Write the note. I will carry it. Trust me to take care of myself.”

I smiled. “I think you could take care of yourself better than any woman I’ve ever met.”

Her laugh was like pure water washing over me. I closed my eyes and wished it would continue.

Minutes later, with my scrawled message in hand, she was whispering good-bye and promising to return with more news. Before she turned to go, she reached through the bars once more, curled her fingers around the back of my neck and pulled me toward a space between the bars. She pressed her lips to mine for one gentle moment.

When she was gone, it seemed to me as though the sun had been extinguished.

* * *

The day wore on with no word from Neferet. I worried, and my fears spilled over into rage at Wati, who never ceased his moaning.

“By the horns of Hathor, will you shut your rotted mouth!” I yelled as the sun set, then regretted my words. My actions had put the man in this place forsaken by all the gods, a fate I was coming to believe no one deserved.

At last I heard the clump of soldier’s feet down the shaft. I raced to the gate, telling myself it might only be another scrap of greasy gooseflesh and watered beer.

But the soldier held no food, and he reached for the gate to unlock it.

“I am being released?” I asked, gripping the bars as he worked at the pin.

“His Majesty Horus, Who Protects Egypt with His Wings, has called for your trial in the Great Hall.”

“Trial!” I staggered back and the gate swung inward. “He still insists— But he cannot have summoned the nobles already.”

The guard shrugged and jerked his head toward the shaft. “Go.”

I climbed the steep slant, my feet like blocks of stone. At the head of the shaft, another guard blocked my exit. He slung a length of rope at the one behind me, who grabbed my arms with his sword-roughened hands and lashed my wrists together behind my back.

“You would tie up the grand vizier like a common thief?”

They said nothing.

Up and out of the prison they shoved me, toward the entrance to the palace. I looked up at the grand arch as they dragged me under it. How many times had I strutted through this entrance as though I were the king himself?

They pushed me through the outer courtyard, with its gardens and pools, and into the Great Hall where trials were conducted. I expected to see the hall filled with nobles of the land, come to see my degradation. Instead the cavernous room with its dozen lofty pillars stood silent and empty, save two figures at the front who turned to watch me stumble into the room. At the corners of the hall and along the walls, atop columns the height of a man, oil lamps blazed in fiery glory.

Somehow the empty hall frightened me even more than facing the land’s leaders. Only Khufu and his new high priest stood as my accusers.

It was the prerogative of the king to declare a trial private, if certain matters needed to be kept from the people. In the past, court intrigues such as royal wives plotting to install their own sons on the throne of their fathers had met with private trials. In such cases, the king was judge, witness, and jury. There would be no appeal to the mercy of the court.

The soldiers disappeared behind me, and I stood rooted to the floor in the utter silence of the room. Khufu and the high priest regarded me from under the canopy at the front of the hall. Khufu stood and the pure whiteness of the full robe he wore from shoulder to floor seemed to glow in the firelight. A heavy incense hung in the air, a signal that Khufu was in one of his especially pious moods when he believed himself to be in communion with the gods. After the dank and fetid smell of the prison, I should have been glad for
the incense. But like the absence of nobles, the heavy air was a forbidding omen of things to come.

The rope at my wrists bit into my skin, but I welcomed the pain as it kept me alert in the drowsy air.

We stood there in the silence for some moments. I thought of a hundredfold ways to argue my case before the king, but none of them reached my lips.

Finally, Khufu spoke. “Come forward.”

I inhaled deeply and trudged toward the canopy. When I was but a few cubits from Khufu, the high priest stepped forward as if to protect his king from the man with wrists bound behind his back.

“Khufu—” I began.

He held up a hand for silence, his face still a mask of stone. “I want to hear nothing from you.”

“Not even the truth?”

Something shifted in his eyes, a flame of great pain, and then died. “I have all the truth I need. You placed yourself in a position to identify this—this Scourge of Anubis, so that you yourself could remain undetected as the killer.”

“Khufu, think of the years we have spent—”

“Silence!” His roar echoed from the walls, and the lamps seemed to flicker with the force of it. “I have thought of nothing else, Hemi.” His eyes rested on me for only a moment. “Nothing else. But I cannot deny the proofs that have been brought against you.” His breathing grew rapid, and I saw any doubt had been eclipsed by his anger and pain. “You have taken everything from me that matters. First the love of my wife, then her life. Even the Horizon of Khufu is in jeopardy because of your falseness!”
His face had grown flushed and jewels of sweat glistened on his forehead.

I tried again, in the soothing voice I always used when he was in a rage. “Cousin, you are vexed. Please—”

Two quick steps down from the platform, then he silenced me with a vicious slap. My eyes watered at the fire in my cheek, and I licked the corner of my mouth, tasting blood. Khufu turned back to ascend to his throne. I took a step forward, but the high priest was there in an instant and applied the end of his staff at my shoulder to shove me to my knees before Pharaoh.

The king whirled, his white robe floating out from him like a cloud, and in that moment he did seem a god to me. A god with no mercy in his eyes. His eyes were like hardened flint stones that could no longer set a spark.

“Who accused me, Khufu? What proof do you have that I have done this evil?”

Khufu sat upon his throne and stretched his hands across the lions’ head armrests. I had never seen him like this. His usual petulant rages were more like the tantrums of a child. This coldness, this deadness seemed to coil up in my stomach like venom.

“Merit’s concerns accuse you,” he said. “Ebo’s wife accuses you. And Rashidi has told me that you and Mentu argued fiercely just before he was killed. That Mentu was going to come to me with something he knew of you.”

“This is madness, Khufu! Mentu was my friend. Rashidi seeks to bring me down because I removed him from his position as High Priest of On. It is nothing more than that! And the rest—it is also madness.”

He stood over me. “You would call Ra on earth mad?”

“You are not Ra on earth, Khufu!” I let the arrows in my soul fly at last. “You are nothing more than an arrogant, selfish man. And if anyone deserves judgment, it is you. For it is you who killed Amunet and began all of this!”

Khufu’s jaw twitched and his lips tightened until they were no more than a slit in his face. “Leave us,” he hissed to the high priest, who bowed his head and backed out of the Great Hall through the square arch at the side of the room.

Khufu never took his eyes from me as the high priest made his exit. When we were alone, he descended one step, until he towered over where I still kneeled. I waited for a blow, a kick to the head, anything.