Nocturnal Encounter

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

Nakhtmin brooded over his second jug of beer. Nothing drew him to his miserable, vermin-infested hut directly at the Nile. Once again, he cursed his honesty. If he’d testified according to Nebit’s wishes, he could have a small property in a noble district—like Weni.

“You only need to embellish your testimony a little and these ten gold deben will embellish your arm,” the vizier had enticed him, and he—at long last—had agreed.

But that would have been a lie, his inner voice reminded him. Angry, Nakhtmin discarded the objection. “Maat always grabs honest folks by the neck,” he grumbled. He’d rather scratch his flea bites with a clean conscience than toss and turn on fine linen. Hori was his friend after all! Unfortunately, his speaking the truth hadn’t procured acquittal. The verdict of the pharaoh and the judges still puzzled Nakhtmin. At the same time he was relieved nobody came to question him the days after. Whenever he’d heard heavy steps, he’d flinched in horror, fearing the Medjay might take him away.

Somebody tugged on his shendyt. Annoyed, Nakhtmin turned around. It was the innkeeper’s son.

“You’re Nakhtmin, the doctor, aren’t you?” he asked.

“What if I am?”

“We got a message for Nakhtmin, the doctor.” The boy ogled the copper lump Nakhtmin carried on a string around his neck. “Is that a whole deben?”

“You want a reward for delivering the message?” Nakhtmin guessed.

The boy spun around to look at his father who gestured wildly. Sighing, Nakhtmin beckoned the little man. Using a knife, he cut a thin piece off the copper deben. “All right, this is for the two jugs of beer. And this…” He sliced off another bit. “…is for your son’s trouble delivering the message.” He handed the precious metal to the boy. “And now I’d really like to hear it.”

The youngster pulled a shard of clay from his threadbare loincloth and held it out to him with a wide smile.

What silly joke was that? They must be kidding, Nakhtmin thought. The shard was smeared with a thick layer of tallow. If that was a message, he didn’t get it. Then he noticed a blurred symbol under the grease and scraped off the layer with his knife. In his corner it was too dark to read, and the ink had run, making it even harder to decipher the signs. He walked over to one of the torches and read.

To Nakhtmin, doctor. Greeting. This is a matter of life and death. Meet me tomorrow, third hour after sunset, waterfront road heading north, at the lone palm tree. A friend.

Three more times, he read the message before he shoved the shard in his shendyt and frowned. What a strange notice! A friend? He had no more friends since… He missed Hori. His colleagues at the House of Life looked down their noses at him. What was he still doing in the capital? A doctor’s life back home in the province shouldn’t be too bad. Every day he was reminded of his offense defying the vizier of the Two Lands. Among all his fellow students, he was the only doctor banned from events like the big banquet celebrating the harvest, banned from treating noble patients bringing generous gifts. He was only allowed to cure the poor and received very little in return. Who, then, was the ominous friend who’d sent the message? Surely none of his patients since most weren’t able to write. One of his fellow students? But they avoided him as if they might catch his fleas.

What if it was a trap? The thought tore away the veil of fatigue and intoxication, which had enveloped him until now. Were they luring him to this remote spot to throw him into the river? But why? Nebit had no reason to fear he might go tell the pharaoh about the attempted bribery. By sending the thugs to beat him up, he’d made pretty clear what would await Nakhtmin if he did suffer another fit of imprudent honesty. Deep in thought, he strolled home.

Heri-renpet I, first leap day in Shemu, season of the harvest

All day long, Nakhtmin wondered if he should comply and go to the meeting. A matter of life and death, the message said and it did sound urgent. But if this was about a serious disease, why wait all day? Why meet at night like thieves? No, something smelled fishy. He recalled the servant intercepting him in the alley when Nebit required his presence. Had the vizier thought up a new ploy to punish him? Or was someone else simply planning to rob him? But then he had little to lose, except his life, since he didn’t own anything worth stealing. If the vizier wanted him dead, he’d find plenty of better opportunities to get rid of him. Maybe he should go meet this friend.

As soon as he decided to do it, fear turned his limbs to water once more. He imagined the club already hurtling down toward his head. Waiting for an attack in the dark, unable to defend himself… No, he wasn’t brave enough to take such a chance. As soon as he’d treated the last patient of the day, he set out to check the terrain, where he was supposed to meet the guy.

During the day the waterfront was bustling with people. Many men returned from the nearby fields; fishermen brought in their catch of the day at the harbor. Nakhtmin had already left the city behind and passed several lone trees. Was the unknown sender pulling his leg? How was he supposed to find the right meeting place? Then he saw a single palm tree and knew that had to be it. The trunk rose in a strange arc, which made the tree unmistakable. In its vicinity, an irrigation ditch had been dug up for the next flooding, but so far it was still dry. Nakhtmin peered in. He could hide there and observe his friend without being seen. Yes, that would work! He hurried back to the city.

At home he made a meal from the meager gifts he’d received as payment for his services that day: some onions, beans and a young Nile perch heavy enough to feed him the next two days as well.

At dusk, nervous unrest chased him out of the house. One hour into the night, he lay in his hideout, rocks painfully stabbing at his flesh. He won’t be on the way yet so I might just as well get more comfortable. As comfy as possible under the circumstances, he peered over the edge of the ditch. The full moon cast silvery light onto the river’s surface and seemed to turn it into liquid silver. Nakhtmin’s head sank back.

A tawny owl’s call jerked him awake. Damn, I’ve fallen asleep! How late could it be? Had he’d missed his so-called friend? A gentle splashing arrested his attention. Someone seemed to paddle on the river. Yes, now he could see the man. His bald head glittered in the moonlight. A priest? Could this be the man wanting to meet him? The many questions confused him even more. The boat slowly drifted past and soon disappeared from view. Nothing to do with him. Nakhtmin leaned back into the ditch. Who traveled on the divine Nile at night? Quite strange. He slid into a state between waking and sleeping.

Then he noticed a dragging sound, already close. He realized that he must have heard it for a while already because in his dazed mind he’d conjured up images of a grinding stone for doctors’ knives. He scrutinized the path along the riverbank. A hunched man lugged something bulky. A boat! Had to be the priest he’d seen earlier. Nakhtmin held his breath. The stranger hid in the shadows of shrubs and seemed to wait. How stupid. He lay here and the other guy cowered over there. That way he’d never find out if the man posed danger. And he was trapped in this ditch.

Nakhtmin had no idea how long he’d been lying there and weighing his options when his friend stepped onto the path and gazed toward the capital. Moonlight gave his face sharp contours. Something about him seemed very familiar. “Hori!” he blurted.

The figure jerked and dove into the bushes.

“It’s me, Nakhtmin.”

A rustle, then they stood in front of each other. Dumbstruck Nakhtmin stared at his old friend Hori. How could he be here?

“I’m so glad you came. Let’s get off the path. I’ve got to tell you something important.”

Nakhtmin grabbed his arm. “How did you get here? Aren’t you…?”

“Later.” Hori led him along the path to a dirt track, which they followed for a while before he settled in the cover of bushes and pulled Nakhtmin down to sit beside him. Here he gave him a brief summary of the events since his sentencing. “You see, I had to come. I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d trust more.”

“Hori, I… Because of you I’m already in trouble.” The words spilled from his mouth before he could bite his tongue. While listening to his friend’s sometimes nebulous report, realization had dawned on him what awaited them if they were caught.

“Oh, I get it.”

“No, I doubt you understand. Nebit sent his thugs to beat me up. I live in the paupers’ quarters and often don’t have enough to eat, because the vizier took care that I can’t treat rich people. As soon as the Nile reaches top water level, I’ll have to return to Khent-min.” He hadn’t really decided yet, but now Hori would have to accept that he couldn’t do anything for him.

“What a great friend you are. Is it my fault you let him bribe you? I’m grateful you said the truth at court, but you brought the consequences on yourself.”

Hori was right. Nakhtmin felt it in his heart. However, what he asked him to do was impossible. “How should I be able to help you? You need someone who is welcome in the houses of high-ranking officials.” He released a bitter laugh. “I’m anything but.”

Hands grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “It’s Hetepet, Ameny’s daughter! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Nakhtmin cringed under these words. They lashed him like a cane. Little Hetepet… Often he’d teased her, while she waited in front of the temple for her father. Since her mysterious death, the second prophet had been overwrought with grief. An idea began to form in his heart. “Yes, it does mean something to me. You can’t imagine how shocked everyone was when she lay dead among the pillars of the vestibule.”

“And nobody realized she was murdered?” Hori spluttered.

“Imhotepankh assumed a heat stroke killed her.”

“Likely he didn’t even look at her. And what about Merit-Neith? Do you know anything about her?”

“No.” Nakhtmin’s thoughts traveled back to those days after the trial. He’d still been suffering major pain after the beating when the young woman was found in her parents’ garden. Only later he’d learned what happened because Shepses flaunted his grief in the House of Life. Obviously, the two had been engaged. “Listen, Hori. What happened to both women is tragic, but I can’t see a way to help you. One of your brothers or your father should be in a much better position to—”

“No! I’d never ask my family for help. You don’t know my father. In his eyes, I disgraced the family. He didn’t lift a finger to prevent this unjust verdict. And my brothers are like him. Not a word to any of them. They’d probably report both of us to the Medjay.”

Nakhtmin recoiled from Hori’s vehemence. What kind of family treated one of their own like that? Likely Hori exaggerated but he didn’t dare broach the subject again. That put him back in the lurch. “Maybe the killer will never strike again. What do you care? You risk your neck by leaving the weryt. Hey, how did you escape? I thought that was impossible.”

“I’ve pledged myself to Maat,” Hori explained, then told him about his vision as he called it.

Nakhtmin couldn’t help feeling impressed. Hori’s voice rang with sincerity and dedication. His own conscience stirred. He too had good reasons to pledge his life to Maat. He’d almost lied in front of the Great Kenbet! The intent alone weighed like lead on his heart. He had to do something, and Hori’s excitement started to rub off on him. “Maybe there’s a chance…” he began. “What if I confide in Ameny?”

“No way! You can’t tell anyone. Consider the danger for both of us. Nothing’s more secret than the secrets of the weryt!”

“But you didn’t reveal those and you won’t. You only left because of the murders you discovered.”

“ We know that, but do you really believe the second prophet of Amun will understand?”

“The man’s devastated in his grief over Hetepet,” Nakhtmin explained. “Believe me, if he knew she was murdered, he’d do much more than keep our secret.”

Hori groaned. “It’s too risky. Still, let’s assume you go to Ameny and spill everything. He reacts as you say. What then? As second prophet he can’t just walk into houses and ask people if they killed his daughter. He can’t even go to the pharaoh because he’d have to explain how he knows about the murders. That’s our dilemma. At the same time I’m sure Hetepet won’t be the last victim of this vicious killer. We have to prevent more murders.”

Nakhtmin felt dizzy. The extent of this matter was too much for him. If Hori thought Ameny powerless, what did he expect of him? He was just a boy from Upper Egypt, trained as doctor. On his own he’d get nowhere. “I can keep my eyes open, but someone will have to open doors for me, or we won’t get anywhere.”

“You’re right.” Hori’s sigh sounded desperate. “We have to take the risk. Approach Ameny with utmost care. Maybe a condolence visit? I’m sure the goddess didn’t show herself without reason.”

Nakhtmin’s skin crawled. “No, the eternal ones only show themselves to a few people. If they do, they can’t be ignored. Listen, although you’ve found a way out of the weryt, it’s too risky for you to cross the river. We need to find a way to stay in contact that’s less dangerous for you. It’s easier for me to get across. If necessary I can even do it in daylight. Do you know a place where we can deposit messages?”

Hori remained silent for a while, then he nodded. “A bit downstream from the weryt there’s a thicket at the riverbank, where I hide my dinghy. Let’s dig a small pit in the sand, ten steps inland from there. We can place messages, shove sand over them and mark the spot with a rock or branch, so the other can find it.”

Nakhtmin nodded. “And the place can’t be seen from the gate of the weryt? I’d rather not be observed by guards while digging in the sand. They might get curious.”

“No worries, all day long they stare out at the Nile, and the bushes are right behind a river bend. You can see it from the path here. I’ll show you.”

The headed back to the river, and Nakhtmin made sure he’d be able to find the spot before he helped Hori launch the damaged boat. Then he said good-bye to his friend and wished him a safe return.

On the way back to Itj-tawy he felt like a changed person—so different from the guy he was when he came here. What happened to make him sign up for such an adventure? That wasn’t like him at all. But he also felt new hope grow inside him, where yesterday only misery lodged. Maybe this was his chance to establish himself as a doctor in the capital and actually make a living. Back in his hut he mulled over their situation for a long time.