Day 6 of month Menkhet in Akhet, season of the inundation
Hori awoke with a sense of anticipation. Oh right, the message! He’d retrieved a new scroll from their hiding place. For fear of someone noticing light in his house late at night, he always waited to read the news in daylight. And he had to make his tallow lamps last. He’d already used a significant amount of the fat to seal his first two messages. Each worker in the weryt received only a certain amount every year.
He hadn’t really expected to receive news from Nakhtmin this soon again but had checked anyway. Maybe his friend had discovered something. He quickly counted the days—right, the period of mourning in Ameny’s house had ended. In the light of dawn, he skimmed the distinct writing of his friend, then read it again more slowly. He didn’t have much time before he needed to head out to the yard of evisceration and start his day’s work.
By now he was privy to most secrets of the weryt, and the always-same moves bored him. How much more interesting it was to find out what ailed a sick person! The mystery surrounding the deaths of the young women gave him the mental challenge he missed during the repetitive, unchanging tasks in the House of Death. His fingers moved of their own accord, while he gave his thoughts free rein.
If Ankhes had really drowned, the ut, who mentioned her to him, would have noticed. A drowned body showed characteristic features hard to overlook. Wasn’t it strange that two of the supposed murder victims were about to marry? There it was—the connection!
Dazed by his shocking realization, he felt like someone hit him over the head with a hammer. Merit-Neith was engaged to Shepses, and Ankhes, too, might have married one of the vizier’s sons. No, too far-fetched. Hori recoiled from the thought as if it were a poisonous scorpion. Nebit’s family had suffered enough because of him. How could he possibly point an accusing finger at the house of the vizier? However, it was a strange coincidence and a fact connecting both cases. They needed to spin this thread further. Even if it led nowhere, it might set Nakhtmin on the right track. He couldn’t possibly hold back his suspicion, not even for fear of hurting the vizier once more. Come to think of it, what did he owe the man? Neferib’s death had been an accident, and the vizier had violated Maat by convincing witnesses to give false testimony. Hori was being punished for something that hadn’t been a deliberate act. He’d only meant to protect the girl in the tavern. His heart was pure. Still, he felt a lump of guilt and unease in his stomach. If only he could ask Kheper to cut out the foreign matter.
Time passed slowly as he worked bent over the table. He desperately needed to tell Nakhtmin of his suspicion. If only his thoughts could fly like clouds! Eventually, the day ended. While washing, he met Kheper, who cordially invited him over for dinner.
“Thanks, but not today. I’ve got a headache and want to go to bed early,” Hori lied. The older man’s face showed disappointment, so he added, “How about tomorrow evening? I’d certainly be looking forward to your wife’s cooking skills. And please give my regards to your enchanting daughter.” Inaudibly, he groaned. The ut trying to hook him up with his daughter Nut was starting to annoy him. The girl was nice, pretty too, but everything inside Hori rebelled against growing roots in the weryt. Deep down, he still harbored hope his sentence might not be as final as it had sounded from the pharaoh’s mouth.
Reaching his house, he went to the bedroom, where he kept Nakhtmin’s messages well hidden behind a loose brick. Here he also wrote his replies. Too many people spent the evening on the roofs, and he couldn’t afford to be seen. Someone might wonder what he was writing and, even more, where he got the papyrus. The inhabitants of the weryt were one large community, only he didn’t quite belong. And just as he didn’t fully trust the utu, they regarded him as something strange. Therefore he couldn’t risk drawing any attention lest someone follow him one of these nights when he left these walls. That would be his end.
Ink dropped from his stylus. The splash almost rendered the last sentence unreadable. He cursed his wandering thoughts and quickly finished his report. What would Nakhtmin think of his discovery?