A Failed Attempt

Day 9 of month Menkhet in Akhet, season of the inundation

After breakfast, Nakhtmin strolled into the garden and sat down at the peacefully smooth pond. Soon the daughter of the house joined him, and he endured her interrogation with a sigh. What had he found out yesterday? What had he discussed with her father? He wasn’t sure how much he could tell her. Anything regarding Hori he had to omit anyway since she didn’t know about his involvement and shouldn’t. That required his full concentration. Once he almost slipped up and told her about the nighttime excursions. To his relief Mutnofret didn’t notice his abrupt silence. She seemed deep in thought. Nakhtmin was glad to be spared her pointed remarks for once.

A high shriek made them both jump. One of the twins fell, hit his head and screamed as if his life were at stake. Nakhtmin ran to him and left Mutnofret behind at the pond.

The wound on Huni’s forehead wasn’t deep but bled strongly. “I should stitch you up,” he said. Penu lurked nearby, so he called to him, “Quick, get me my doctor’s toolkit. It’s on top of my clothes chest.” In the meantime, he pressed a piece of linen on the wound. How fortunate he had his own instruments now!

Gradually the entire household gathered around them, and the boy visibly enjoyed the attention after the first pain eased up. Penu returned with the leather wrap containing his instruments.

Nakhtmin fumbled the thin needle from the loop fixing it in place. He looked up. “Isis, I need a thread, ideally cleansed intestine of a small animal, but fine linen should do as well.”

Mutnofret picked up the reel with the previous morning’s work and handed it to him. He threaded the thin yarn into the eye of the needle where it jammed, since the small eye wasn’t polished that well inside. Because of that general problem, intestine worked better. Annoyed he moistened the end with saliva and succeeded.

Huni had observed his every move with eyes growing wider. When he realized Nakhtmin wanted to stitch up his skin, he screamed at the top of his voice, kicked and writhed. The women held him, but Nakhtmin saw it wouldn’t work that way. He had an idea. “Hey, Huni, aren’t you always getting mad when people mistake you for Bata?”

The boy nodded.

“Listen, when I’m done, you’ll have an impressive scar on your forehead. Everyone will be able to tell you apart at first glance.”

A tentative smile spread over Huni’s face. “Really?” He sniffed. “Will it hurt?”

Nakhtmin remembered the two rascals loved to play king’s soldiers. “Oh yes, it will hurt, but I know how tough you are, like a real warrior.”

The child nodded gravely this time. “Yes, I won’t scream.”

“That’s my man.” Nakhtmin hurried to make the two stitches.

Huni pressed his lips together but didn’t make any noise.

“You are a true hero. And soon you’ll have a scar to prove it.”

Isis took the reluctant hero in her arms and went inside with him.

Bata gazed after them with visible envy and leaned his head toward him. “Can I have a scar as well? Please!”

Nakhtmin shook with laughter. Mutnofret squatted and explained, “Scars need to be earned. You don’t want to cheat, do you?”

Bata shook his head.

“Besides, I promised Huni that you two will be distinguishable,” Nakhtmin said. “He’d think I’m a liar if you also got a scar. You don’t want that, do you?”

“No. Did it hurt very much?”

Nakhtmin pricked his finger with the needle. Bata screamed. “I’d rather not get stitched.” He dashed away.

Smiling, Nakhtmin was about to roll up his instruments when Mutnofret stopped him. She pulled out one of the puncture needles and studied it. “Hard to belief a stab with this delicate tool can be lethal.”

“If you hit the right spot, yes. However, it is a strange choice of weapon.” Her inquisitive gaze demanded an explanation, so he obliged. “When the insides of a body are injured, vital juices seep from the vessels transporting them, very similar to the blood gushing from Huni’s forehead. The bigger the wound the faster one dies. I wonder, though, if with such a tiny wound the victim would collapse right away.”

She furrowed her brow. “Does that matter?”

“Imagine someone stabs you, and you know this person wants to kill you. What would you do?”

Her face lit up. “Of course! I’d scream for help.”

“Exactly. The girls must have known who attacked them. Would they have remained silent if they lived long enough to tell?”

Mutnofret grabbed his hand. “Let’s try!”

Horrified, Nakhtmin gaped at her. “I can’t just jab a needle into someone’s heart. Even the best doctor—”

“Stupid as a donkey!” she called and ran off toward the kitchen wing.

Nakhtmin stumbled after her. What was she up to now? At the stables she stopped, opened one of the wattle doors and slipped inside. A few moments later, she stepped out, pulling along a young goat with a rope around its neck.

“I believe tomorrow we’re going to have roasted goat kid anyway.”

“You’re crazy!” he blurted.

“Oh, come on. I’ll hold it.” She bent forward and handed him the puncture needle.

Nakhtmin went down on his knees. If they wanted to learn something from this experiment, he needed to find the heart first.

“Meheheh,” the goat bleated and jerked back. Mutnofret lost her balance and fell on her butt. The goat saw its chance and skipped away. Just in time, Nakhtmin snatched the end of the rope.

Mutnofret rubbed her bottom and snorted. “You beast. I’ll eat you with pleasure tomorrow.”

He suppressed a laugh. Finally she managed to hold the animal tight, allowing him to touch the trembling body. The hammering heart wasn’t hard to find. He estimated the spot that might equate to the stab wound under the left breast of a young woman and jabbed the needle in.

The goat bleated with terror and jumped, rear hooves lashing out and connecting with Mutnofret’s thigh. She yelped and let go of the goat, which absconded into the bushes.

“Just great,” Nakhtmin barked. “You were supposed to hold it.”

“Help me up, you chuff! You were supposed to pierce the heart. I think you only pricked the beast a little.”

He snorted with indignation. “No way. The needle went right into the heart, believe me.”

Their gazes locked.

“But then it’s obvious,” she said. “Such a wound doesn’t kill right away.”

Nakhtmin jumped up. “Come on, we’ve got to find it.” The animal shouldn’t suffer any longer.

They searched the neighboring grounds, but it took some time until Nakhtmin heard a meek bleating. Behind a hedge, he found the animal with buckled legs, unable to get up. Glad to have his instruments with him, he pulled out the flint knife and cut the young goat’s throat. The blood didn’t gush as strongly as he’d expected, but it spattered all over his shendyt.

Mutnofret put her hands on her hips and laughed. “Quite the doctor you are. At the moment people might mistake you for a butcher.”

He grimaced. “And now?”

“Now you’ll take the carcass to the kitchen,” she said, turned on her heels and ran away.

Nakhtmin couldn’t believe it. That woman! After dumping the animal in the kitchen and mumbling a stuttered excuse about medical experiments, he only wanted to wash himself, and he appreciated Mutnofret’s absence. He’d had enough of her for now. The rest of the morning flowed at a sluggish pace allowing him to sort his thoughts in peace.

Their investigation had reached a dead end. The families of the vizier and the Amun priest had little in common and their social circles hardly overlapped. However, they needed eyes and ears on Nebit’s estate to sniff out the killer. And now this discovery. The puncture needle alone couldn’t be the murder weapon unless the villain held his victims tight until they died. Not very likely. Until he could make more sense of it, he wouldn’t bother Hori and Ameny with news of his goat experiment.

The midday meal usually consisted of light food. Like most days, Ameny took a break from his temple duties to join them. Mutnofret did not show, which wasn’t uncommon. She often simply munched some fruit before lying down for a nap. Conversation at the table centered on Huni’s accident. Soon they all retreated to escape the worst heat of the day and seek refuge dozing in their cooler bedchambers.

Slamming of doors and hasty steps in the hallway jerked Nakhtmin awake. He must have been sleeping like a log since he felt numb and found it difficult to orient himself. The door to his room flung open, and the lady of the house poked her head in. “Is Mutnofret with you?”

What an absurd idea. Why should Mutnofret share my bed? Then the underlying implication filtered through to him. “What? She isn’t in her room?”

Isis shook her head. “My daughter can’t be found anywhere in the house. My husband is beside himself.”

Nakhtmin jumped to his feet, quickly donned his shendyt and hurried after Isis to the great hall of the house, where Ameny instructed Penu and another servant. “Search every nook and cranny of the house and garden. Mutnofret has to be somewhere. She wouldn’t leave the estate without telling us. She knows…”

“What does my daughter know?” Isis stopped in the doorway, and Nakhtmin almost bumped into her. He squeezed past her and stood beside the priest. The servants scurried off.

Ameny turned to her. His face showed embarrassment and alarm, but also his fear for his daughter. “It’s just that I asked her not to leave the premises without Nakhtmin escorting her. Because of what happened to Hetepet. You know that.”

His wife studied him with a doubtful expression. “Are you really telling me the truth? It’s not like you to stir up the whole household just because the girl goes for a walk.”

“And it’s not like her to stroll off without letting someone know. She’s aware of my concerns.”

“…and she might deem them exaggerated, my dear. Maybe she enjoys escaping your vigil.”

Yes, that would be typical for Mutnofret. However, the girl knew why she really needed protection. If she only wanted to make fun of Nakhtmin, it was a cruel joke for her father. He never thought her inconsiderate of other people.

Ameny seemed deeply shaken. He probably wanted to yell in his wife’s face that Mutnofret’s life was at stake. Nakhtmin admired the man’s self-control when he answered in a calm voice, “The two of us will go look for her. I’m sure you’re right.” He headed toward the door, and Nakhtmin hurried after him.

Crossing the front yard, he profusely apologized to the priest for his failure. This shouldn’t have happened. But how should he have prevented the young woman setting out on her own if she was determined? Nevertheless, Nakhtmin blamed himself and couldn’t suppress a sense of dread. “We should start our search at the House of Life,” he suggested.

Ameny grabbed his arm. “Why did I even hire you? What do you know? Did she tell you something, and you left her alone?”

“No, definitely not. She interrogated me earlier and I had to tell her all about Shepses and Hetepet. I should have known better. You know what she’s like. If she wants something…”

“…she’ll get it. Yes, my daughter always had a strong will.”

Quite different descriptions popped up in Nakhtmin’s mind: stubborn, obstinate, self-centered, spoiled and careless. If she really went to see Shepses, she faced great danger. Did it mean nothing to her that she worried everyone in the household, most of all her father? Likely she gloated over having fooled him—again. What good was he to Ameny if Mutnofret regarded it as a fun pastime to sneak away from him?

Ameny’s words hit home hard. Indeed, the man might very well regret having welcomed him to his house. He could only hope nothing happened to Mutnofret, or else… He thought of his miserable hut in the paupers’ quarter, the tough position in the House of Life he’d had to cope with before. If Ameny kicked him out, he’d be even worse off. Where could he go? The medical men in the Two Lands formed a rather tight-knit community. Without recommendations he wouldn’t get a foot in the door. Until recently, he didn’t even have his own instruments. Most likely he’d have to return to the small backwater village where he was born, where he’d be the only doctor among peasants, with no access to writings. His father had already died, but at least people knew him there. Cringing, he realized what a selfish, uncaring turn his considerations had taken. He worried about his future when the girl in his charge was in serious danger!

The priest picked up his pace even more, and Nakhtmin breathed heavily trying to keep up with him. Fortunately, it wasn’t far to the temple. Soon they passed through the pylon. Nakhtmin hurried after Ameny across the yard to the gate of the House of Life, where Inpu blocked their way. “Venerable prophet, you’re early today.”

Ameny shoved the dignitary aside. “Where’s my daughter? Have you seen Mutnofret?”

Inpu pursed his lips and wrinkled his nose, a sure sign of disapproval. “The young lady arrived awhile ago, indeed. She suffered from a headache and specifically requested doctor Shepses to—”

“Where? Where is she, man?”

“I do beg your pardon!” Sulking, the head of the House of Life pushed out his lower lip.

Nakhtmin took his former supervisor aside. “The prophet is deeply worried about his daughter’s headache. You remember the tragic death of his youngest daughter, little Hetepet, don’t you? Please forgive his rudeness.”

Inpu nodded ungraciously. “Still—such behavior…” He clicked his tongue, another sure sign he was still miffed. “Shepses is in the third room to the left today. Whether your daughter is still with him, I cannot know.”

Nakhtmin on his heels, Ameny dashed ahead and through the third door, only to find the room empty.

An opening in the opposite wall led to the temple garden—reserved for the priests of Amun. Nevertheless, a woman’s bubbly laugh filtered through the linen curtain billowing in the wind. The door stood ajar. Nakhtmin nodded toward the instrument kit he’d seen during his previous visit. Ameny only glared at it, then took three long strides to the opening and stormed outside. With determination, he headed toward the voices. Nakhtmin ran past him and peeked behind a dense bush obscuring their view. What he glimpsed dealt him a blow: Mutnofret embraced Shepses with visible bliss. Ameny arrived like a raging bull, but Nakhtmin managed to restrain him. “She’s fine,” he whispered. The words tasted sour in his mouth but too much was at stake here. “Don’t do anything rash.”

He dragged the worried father behind the plant and carefully parted the twigs so they could see without being seen.

The priest snorted. “The cheeky windbag will taste my fist.”

Nakhtmin felt with him. He couldn’t understand why Mutnofret took such a risk. Shepses might be her sister’s killer. How could she? Rage boiled inside him, too, except it was rather directed at the young woman. May the gods forgive me. If she can’t give us a very good reason for her actions, I’ll personally spank her! An oath he meant to keep.

“This is outrageous!”

The sharp voice made them spin around. Inpu must have followed them into the park, but unlike Nakhtmin and Ameny, he’d stayed on the path and spotted the couple after the next bend. Shepses and Mutnofret flinched and cast searching glances around. Nakhtmin bent lower and gestured to the priest he should stay hidden. “It’s better if they think Inpu caught them, not you,” he whispered, and Ameny nodded. Nakhtmin was glad the powerful man let him take the lead.

Mutnofret certainly meant to achieve something with her visit. As long as she was safe, he wanted to give her the chance to follow through with her plan—if she really had one. Heat coursed through his body. Was she attracted to Shepses? He’d always thought the long list of conquests Shepses liked to flaunt was much exaggerated. What if he was wrong? Maybe women were stupid enough to fall for this arrogant talebearer. He’d thought Mutnofret smarter than that. Whatever her intentions, a furious father could ruin everything.

The head of the House of Life had turned crimson with indignation by the time he reached them. “Shameless!” he ranted. “Shepses, I would have expected better behavior from you. And you, young lady, should know better, too. This is the garden of Amun, and you’re not allowed in here. Get out, both of you!”

Hand in hand, the culprits ran over the meadow and into the doctor’s room without glancing back. Thus, Nakhtmin and Ameny remained undiscovered behind their bush. Relieved, Nakhtmin took a deep breath. “Maybe you should go talk to Inpu, ask him not to mention you asking for Mutnofret. She’s planning something. If it’s what I think, I sure don’t like the idea, but it might help us a lot.”

Ameny grumbled something unintelligible but slowly moved toward Inpu while making sure he couldn’t be seen from the house. Nakhtmin heard murmurs traveling back and forth between the men. Finally, Inpu nodded, and Ameny signaled Nakhtmin to follow him. They took a detour to the temple and entered through a different door. Nakhtmin recognized the corridor with the offices of the prophets. Here too, access was restricted to priests. As a doctor he’d reached the first level of consecration but had only been here once.

“I’ve asked Inpu to accompany her to the pylon. You should meet her there. I’ll have to take care of my tasks now, although I’d like to give my daughter quite the scolding. You have my permission to thoroughly chide her before I come home. What poisonous vermin bit her to give me such a scare?”

Relieved that Mutnofret’s solitary endeavor had no horrible consequences, he grinned from ear to ear. The prospect to upbraid her in the role of her father’s representative delighted him and chased away the nausea caused by the view of Shepses’s hands on her body.

Soon it dawned on Nakhtmin that Mutnofret neither felt guilty nor paid attention to his reproach. Chin held up high, she sashayed ahead of him and ignored his words like a mother her child’s whining. Only the disapproving expression of her own mother caused her to lower her gaze.

“Since when is it custom in this house for people to simply come and go as they please?” Lady Isis greeted her.

“Forgive me, mother. My head ached, and I longed to stretch my legs.”

Isis huffed. “Here we have a beautiful garden and even a doctor in the house, but you take to the streets. Your father was beside himself. I expect this won’t happen again.”

“No, mother.” As soon as Isis was out of sight, Mutnofret grabbed Nakhtmin’s hand and pulled him to her room. Laughing, she flopped onto her bed and spread her arms. “So, how did I do?”

Incredible! She seemed to be proud of herself. “Mainly, you took a great risk.” Nakhtmin trembled with scorn. “Did you waste a thought on how you embarrassed me? Your father provides accommodation for me, so I can look after you. Had something happened to you, it would have been my fault!”

She waved his comment aside. “Don’t make such a fuss. It’s always about you. I’ve opened the doors to the vizier’s house for us.”

Baffled, Nakhtmin stared at her. He’d imagined she only wanted to charm information out of Shepses—groping and fondling not included.

“Naturally, you must be aware that we won’t get anywhere if we sneak around outside Nebit’s house like cats. Shepses has lost his bride and is looking for a new one. People say I look much like Hetepet, who had already spiked his interest so I thought…”

Her foolhardiness left him speechless. Then he barked. “Are you aware that all of Shepses’s brides or even lovers tend to lead a rather short life? Think of Hetepet!” With satisfaction, he saw her lips quiver. Secretly though, he had to admit she was right. He’d come to the same conclusion already, but using Ameny’s now only daughter as bait? The prophet would never agree to such a ploy. And he himself wanted to throw up when he thought of Mutnofret in the arms of that windbag. “You didn’t let him seduce you, did you?”

“Jealous?”

He snorted. “No, I just wondered if you’d go as far as to join in passion with the murder of your sister.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Poison drips from your tongue. Take care you don’t swallow it.”

“And your tongue is so sharp I’m surprised you don’t cut yourself.”

She hissed and turned away from him.

He didn’t want to let her off the hook so easily. “Besides the scare you gave us all, our plans for the afternoon are ruined.”

She rolled onto her back, arms over her eyes, but said nothing.

Heavy breathing made her breasts rise and fall. That moment he wanted nothing more than to touch them. Get a grip, Nakhtmin! That’s what she wants. Right, if he showed his reaction to her allure, she’d come out on top and stay there. He aimed for a placid tone of voice. “I actually wanted to take you to Thotnakht’s house today, to find out more about the circumstances of Bastet’s death. Now it should be too late to call on the lady of the house. Unreasonably as you’ve acted today, it’s probably better if I don’t take you along.”

One eye peered out from under her arm, but he turned away as if to leave. He so craved to hear her beg. She shouldn’t always keep the upper hand, noble family or not. He reached for the door knob when he heard her sitting up.

“Without me? Oh, come on, don’t be like that. All this is so exciting. Staying behind all alone, I might die of boredom, and Father wouldn’t appreciate that either.”

He grinned inwardly, but managed a disapproving tone as he said, “You act as if these murders happened for your entertainment only. Shows how immature you still are. No, I can’t have you around on this serious mission.”

“Without me coming along, you won’t even get into Thotnakht’s house,” she challenged him.

He turned to her. “Maybe your father can get me an invitation. He is not happy about your behavior either. Surely he’ll forbid your leaving the house—either to see Shepses or the wife of the first scribe.”

Her face showed undisguised horror. “But…I’ve set up everything so well. Don’t tell me I let those slimy fingers grope me for nothing!”

He almost laughed with joy. She didn’t care for Shepses!

“Oh please, Nakhtmin, you must convince father. You have to!”

And let Mutnofret walk farther into the lion’s den? How much persuasion and arm twisting would it take to wrestle the permission from Ameny? That prospect made his triumph over her begging go stale.

“Never! I won’t allow it. Mutnofret will set no foot near that miscreant.” The Amun prophet paced along the back wall of his study like a caged lion.

“What if I promise to always stay close to her? You know for yourself: we won’t get anywhere without her. We can’t just accuse somebody, and there are too many suspects living in Nebit’s house.”

Ameny looked like a wounded animal. “You can’t guarantee you’ll be able to help her if necessary,” he whispered almost inaudibly. “How quickly is the deed done? No. And that’s my last word.”