Beyond the Wall

Day 30 of month Ipet-hemet in Shemu, season of the harvest.

All day Hori’s thoughts circled around one question: Could he really escape the weryt the way the goddess had shown him? Swimming and diving he’d learned as a child, but he wasn’t sure if he could hold his breath long enough to reach the other side of the wall. Fortunately, it wasn’t very thick, though, and should be manageable even against the current. But if he were caught… Maybe guards patrolled along the wall. He knew too little about life here and didn’t dare ask Kheper about security measures, fearing he might raise suspicions. Hori had discarded the idea of confiding in him after the goddess clearly lined out the way for him. Tonight he’d make his first attempt.

Mechanically, his hands performed the already familiar tasks, while he mulled over what lay ahead. He flinched when Kheper suddenly appeared next to him and said, “Tomorrow I’ll teach you the next step of our process, anointing the dead after natron treatment.”

Tomorrow I may be floating belly up in the canal if I fail. Hori imagined Kheper performing all the services for the dead on his body. If he succeeded, he’d be free though. He forced a smile. “I’m looking forward to it. Hey, what happens when I’ve finished my training? Will I get one task assigned and keep at it, or does the mer-ut schedule people for varying jobs?”

“Since only the mer-ut keeps track of how many dead need which kind of treatment, he plans the work and assigns it accordingly.” Kheper moved on to fetch a bowl, and Hori turned back to his body.

Would he really enjoy freedom outside the walls? He could go away, leave Itj-tawy and move to some city where nobody knew him. He’d hardly finished the thought when the goddess’s face popped up before him, crying. No, he couldn’t run away, he had to find out who murdered Hetepet. That much he owed both of them. To do so, he had to go against the pharaoh’s verdict, which also offended Maat. Hori sighed. He’d have to secretly investigate at night when everyone slept and return to the weryt at dawn. How could he possibly manage that? While everybody slept, he wouldn’t find out much. He couldn’t show his face. If someone recognized him, he’d return to the weryt as a dead man. He needed a better plan.

Nevertheless he’d try diving under the wall tonight. Maybe the goddess would appear once more and show him the next step.

Since he usually slept like a log, Hori had to stay awake while waiting for the inhabitants of the weryt to go to bed. With stealth, he sneaked along the paths he’d walked in the wake of the goddess last night. He’d decided to go naked since a bundle of clothes at the canal might raise suspicion in case someone roamed the streets this late. He cursed himself for not checking out the area this side of the wall in daylight to find a hiding place. Nothing he could do about that now. He’d only do reconnaissance, see if there were guards patrolling.

Silently, he slid into the waters of the canal. It only reached up to his crotch, just deep enough to swim. After a few strokes he reached the opening in the wall. His heart raced, so he waited a while to calm down before he dared diving. The water surged around his head as he felt for the tunnel walls and pushed forward. Only three strokes under water and he was through.

Had other weryt folk used this escape route before him? But unlike other children living at the riverbank the kids here probably never learned to swim. How could they? The canal was far too short. Apart from that, they were used to living and dying in their own narrow world. They’d have little reason to find a way out.

With caution, he peeked over the canal wall. The almost full moon provided enough light for him to see pretty far along the flat sandy stretch of the riverbank. No sign of guards. He climbed out of the water. The night air was so warm his skin had almost dried after the first few steps. Since he’d come this far, he might as well look for a way to cross the river. After all, not only the walls of the weryt separated him from the world of the living. Although the Nile’s waters were fairly low this time of the year, he didn’t dare swim to the other side. The current was treacherous, and besides hippos, crocodiles lurked under the surface.

Soon he reached the river. To his right, the weryt’s pier protruded into the mud. It was deserted, no watercraft tied to it. Of course nobody left a boat here. Where would they go? The west, being the realm of death, belonged to jackals and scorpions. Every fisherman and every ferryman brought his boat to the eastern bank for the night. Stumped, Hori turned left. He’d rather not get close to the gates of the weryt in case they had a night watch on duty. He hadn’t walked far when he spotted a palm tree half fallen into the water. All kinds of driftwood had caught in its branches. With some luck he might find a trunk he could use as a simple raft. That wouldn’t protect him against a hungry crocodile but he’d have to take the risk.

To his joy he even found a partly disintegrated papyrus dinghy, either abandoned or adrift and stranded here. Great! Hori pulled and dragged until he managed to get the small boat out of the water. The back was frayed as if a hippo had taken a bite, but the bundles of reed should still carry him. Had the goddess sent him this craft? Now he only needed some kind of oar. Among the flotsam, he found an old plank, which would have to do. He shoved boat and board among shrubs growing along the river. In daylight an abandoned boat would draw attention. Someone might even steal it.

Having prepared everything for a nightly river crossing, Hori returned to the canal. Going with the flow, it was even easier to dive under the wall. Back at his house he found no rest. What should he do once he reached the eastern shore? He still had no idea how to find the killer when he could only operate at night.

The next morning, as soon as Hori opened his eyes, he knew the answer. He needed someone to ask questions and investigate. Someone who could visit the noble families. Someone he could trust. Nakhtmin! His former friend could hardly refuse his help after he’d almost betrayed him. He owed Hori.

Then the next problem hit him: how to find Nakhtmin? He’d still work at the House of Life during the day but no longer live there. Did he have his own little house by now? Maybe his friend had returned to Upper Egypt. Who else might help him? He considered each of his former fellow students but decided he couldn’t trust any of them not to turn him over to the Medjay. With a sigh, Hori dug into his porridge. He had to try his luck, take the risk. The goddess wouldn’t have shown him a way that turned into a dead end.

A little later, Kheper knocked on the door to fetch him. This morning Hori hardly listened to his teacher’s chatter, barely noticed they took a different route. About to ask where they were heading, he remembered that today he was supposed to learn anointing.

This time Kheper led him to a room lit by oil lamps and torches mounted to the walls. Despite the many ventilation slits in the walls, a heavy scent of myrrh and other precious fragrances hung in the air, mixing with the sweet whiff of decay. Several bodies lay on wooden tables. Everywhere sat jugs, vials and pots, boxes of sawdust and linen sacks. The shelves along the walls held large jars, with which to refill the smaller, handier ones, Hori guessed. He picked up one of the containers and read the inscription along the neck. “Ben oil.”

“Yes, and these are juniper berries. In here, we have myrrh and in the small pots with red lids is incense. Good morning, I’m glad you finally woke up.”

“What…? Oh.” Hori realized he’d remained silent the whole time since leaving his house. If Kheper had asked him a question, he likely wouldn’t have noticed. Fortunately, the old man only thought him tired. “Why do we use strong-smelling herbs and substances?”

Kheper made a face Hori had come to think of as his teacher expression. “You know the breath of life leaves through the nose, right?”

Hori grunted his agreement.

“When it’s time to return to the body, it takes the same route. That’s how the gods animate all their creatures. That’s why everything with a strong scent also harbors the divine breath of life reviving people.”

“I see. Rubbing the body with fragrant substances allows it to reanimate itself.”

Kheper looked doubtful but said, “Simply put, I guess you could say that. It only works after the secret ritual of the mouth opening though. Not even we utu know how it works. Anubis’ prophets take care of it.” Kheper turned toward one of the tables with a corpse laid out, awaiting treatment. After the time in the natron chamber the body had shrunk, its skin darkened, hardened and brittled.

Still, Hori recognized her at first glance. “Merit-Neith!”

“What?”

“She was the first I washed, and I knew her.”

“Oh, I remember. It’s really been forty days already since you arrived.”

Hori felt excitement bubble up inside him. Now he’d get the chance to examine her for traces of the same injury he found on Hetepet’s body. “Show me how to perform the anointment,” he demanded.

Kheper grabbed the ben oil. “All these substances are very precious, so don’t waste them. Pour some in your hand, then rub it on the skin of the dead until it softens and becomes flexible again. Understood?”

Hori nodded eagerly and reached for the jug. “Sounds easy.”

“Good, I’ll leave you to it then. Call me when you’re done, and I’ll tell you how to proceed afterward.”

Hori had to restrain himself not to check the spot under her left breast right away. Instead he followed Kheper’s example, who started with the legs of the body on the next table. The treatment took an agonizingly long time, but to Hori’s amazement the skin afterward nearly felt like that of a living person. Some of its original fullness and elasticity had returned although it remained dark. At long last, he’d worked his way up to Merit-Neith’s chest. The light was rather poor, and because of the coloration of the skin, he found it hard to see anything. When Kheper turned his back to him and looked like he might remain in that position for a while, Hori snatched an oil lamp and illuminated the spot. Yes! The same discoloration as Hetepet’s body showed, and it might have once been shaped like a blossom. His fingers felt the puncture wound at its center. He hurried to return the lamp. He was right! Triumph soared through him. At the same time he mourned both women. A ruthless murderer roamed the streets of the capital and he’d killed more than once. This discovery hardened his resolve to begin the search for Nakhtmin tonight.

He finished anointing Merit-Neith’s body. Afterward Kheper showed him the art of stuffing the corpse’s cavities with aromatic cedarwood shavings to fill out cheeks and body to a life-like shape. Juniper berries were pushed into the nostrils, lichen and fragrant incense into the visceral cavity, while myrrh was placed behind the teeth. Kheper picked two bulbs from a chest and placed one in each of Merit-Neith’s hands. Hori recognized the scent, a popular perfume among the noble ladies, who applied it to their clothes. The old man crossed the dead girl’s arms over her lap. “This is how you pose women. Men are laid out with their arms by their sides. Only a pharaoh can go off to eternity with his arms crossed over his chest.”

Hori found it hard to concentrate on Kheper’s explanations, his mind spinning around the latest discovery and his nocturnal expedition. While finishing up, his gaze wandered to the many labeled receptacles, and an idea sparked. He scrutinized the room and spotted a trash can holding many broken jars. Having used up his stock already, he picked out a large smooth shard and hid it in his shendyt. Later, he’d write a message for Nakhtmin. Hopefully, he’d find someone in the harbor taverns who knew the young doctor. At least he should be able to find a messenger content with a small reward.

And there rose his next obstacle in front of him. He owned nothing of value. A few incense bits lay scattered on the table. Could he…? Nobody was watching him. Stealthily he picked up the crumbs and hid them in his left palm. That should suffice.

Up on the roof of his house, he used the last daylight to scribble a note onto the shard. He couldn’t let the ink get runny in the water, so he scraped tallow from the lamp and coated the symbols with it. With luck, this was enough protection against the water. To make sure, he thoroughly greased a piece of leather and wrapped the shard and incense in it. The bundle firmly tied, he could only hope its contents would survive the short passage through the canal unharmed.

Around the same time as the previous night, he set out. He’d decided to wear his shendyt. Naked, he’d stand out even in the harbor district, and attention was the last thing he needed. With his shaved head he might not be easily recognizable even by people who knew him back in the days when his face was rimmed by the doctor’s wig.

This time he didn’t hesitate to dive and soon found himself outside the weryt’s walls. He reached for the precious parcel and shook off the wetness before he wrung his shendyt and wrapped it around the package. Using his belt, he tied the bundle onto his head. Although he appreciated having found the boat, he didn’t quite trust its reliability. If he had to swim, he needed both hands free and the shendyt would hinder him as well. The dinghy still lay in the spot where he’d hid it. He hurried to get it in the water and knelt on the reed bundles. Tiny waves spread from the boat and rolled unbroken over the silvery surface. No dangerous animal lurked nearby. With his makeshift paddle, it took strenuous effort to get across and he drifted downstream significantly. Finally reaching the other side, he dressed, pulled the dinghy on land and dragged it along until he found remarkably dense bushes around a single palm tree: easy to distinguish and an excellent hiding place should someone stroll along the river bank. And the spot was close enough to the city so he could get here quickly if someone recognized and chased him.

To his surprise, the street was deserted. After a few steps he reached the first houses of the capital. The artisans’ quarter lay in complete darkness, and Hori headed toward the harbor. Here he passed several revelers far too drunk to pay him any attention. Smoking torches illuminated the doors of taverns popular not only with sailors. Hori gave the Golden Ibis a wide berth. Instead he turned toward a tavern in which he’d never been before. His throat dried up with tension when he stepped through the door. Inside it was gloomy and unbearably warm. The patrons looked no better kempt than he did in his stained and wrinkled shendyt. Glad he fit right in, Hori still avoided looking at anyone. The innkeeper inspired little confidence but Hori had no choice.

He approached the short, scraggy fellow with a hooked nose. “Good man, do you know someone who could deliver a message for me?”

“Sure, my son often runs errands.” The black eyes scrutinized him from head to toe and reminded Hori of a bird. Then he shouted, “Hey, Good-for-nothing, get your scrawny ass over here.”

A skinny boy dashed from a corner.

If he called his own son good-for-nothing, I’ll probably be a lucky bastard if my message reaches its destination. Hori braced himself before talking to the imbecile child. “Do you know the House of Life?” he asked.

When the boy nodded fervently, Hori unwrapped the parcel. Fortunately its contents had remained dry. “Take this message to the doctor Nakhtmin at the House of Life. As a reward I’ll give you these crumbs of incense.” He took the shard from the leather and showed him the incense crystals.

The boy’s eyes widened and his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but his father reacted faster. Like a claw, his hand shot out and clutched the leather. “Certainly, noble lord, my son will deliver your message.”

Hori grinned inwardly. All of a sudden he’d turned into a noble lord, just because he had something of value to offer. “It’s important the message will be delivered tomorrow. No later. Do you understand?” Hori asked the boy.

“Yes, sir. I’ll deliver this message to doctor Nakhtmin at the House of Life when the first ray of the sun shines.” Hori had to lean toward the boy to understand him because he talked in such a low voice. Was he shy or trying to keep their arrangement secret from any prying ears?

“Good. If you carry out this task to my satisfaction, I’ll use your services again,” he added. Having received his reward in advance, the kid had little reason to actually take the trouble of playing messenger. For good measure, Hori fixed the father with a stern look.

The innkeeper nodded solemnly. “Any time, noble lord.”

Hori left the tavern. Having set things into motion, he couldn’t get out of Itj-tawy fast enough. Now, if only he could rely on Good-for-nothing!