Death at the Festival of the Dead

Day 25 of month Hut-heru in Akhet, season of the inundation

Toward the end of the fourth and last month of the inundation, the ten-day festival in honor of Sokar, the god of fertility and death, was celebrated. It started with the ritual ‘Digging up of the Land, ’ which renewed the fertility of the Black Land. Priests, wearing the falcon mask of the god, hoed the fresh, still-moist earth in a symbolic act since sowing would soon commence. Ameny was among those allowed to pour a sacrificial drink into the new furrow, while the public watched.

The next day, without public attendance, the secret purification and anointment of the god Sokar-Osiris took place, followed by sacrifices. Nakhtmin, as wab priest of Amun, held too low a rank to be allowed at these rituals, but he could imagine how they played out.

The day after, the ceremony of the Mouth Opening was performed, and this really constituted magic for him. During a night wake, the priests read the very long ritual text aloud in full length and brought the image of the dead god back to life. He wondered if Hori performed similar tasks on the dead in the weryt. What amazing power lay hidden behind those walls, and how easily it could be abused. Surely, there were spells with which to steal a person’s ka soul and submit it to one’s whims. No wonder such knowledge must remain secret.

The following day of the Sokar festival was dedicated to the protection of the mummies and thus fully committed to the dead. Again, Nakhtmin felt very close to Hori. Next, the statue of the god was carried to his bark in a great procession and taken up the Nile to its grave. At dawn the journey continued on the divine neshemet bark heading for Abydos, the holy city of Osiris. Nakhtmin had never taken part in this, but he knew Sokar-Osiris’s enemies were ritually destroyed there, which guaranteed the god’s survival. After mummification had revived the divine body, this act restored his powers.

Today, in the evening of the fifth day of celebrations, the Netjeryt festival lay ahead. While the god on his gilded henu bark merged with the setting sun, the people accompanied him across the Nile and moved on to the necropolis where the kas of deceased relatives waited for their offerings. All Itj-tawy residents were out and about, wearing necklaces of onions. The river bustled with watercraft of all types, small fishing boats as well as the barks of the high and mighty. Of course, Ameny’s family had their own vessel, on which they stood in silence and stared into the starry sky still showing a tinge of lilac.

Somebody tugged on Nakhtmin’s shendyt, and he looked down at one of the twins. In the dark he still couldn’t tell Huni and Bata apart. He stooped.

“These onions smell bad,” the child said. “Why do we need to wear them around our necks?”

Nakhtmin glanced at Ameny, who should rather explain the deeper meaning of the ritual to his sons, but his benefactor appeared deep in thought. He understood how difficult crossing the river had to be for the family this year. Their grief over losing Hetepet was still too fresh. “The onion is a magic plant,” he explained in a low voice and sank onto the planks. He patted the wood next to him and both boys snuggled up against him, full of trust. “It is the only plant that lives above and below ground, in this world and the underworld. Its green leaves rise from the ground, and we eat them. The round bulb is also edible but grows in the earth. Doesn’t it look like the sun? The god Sokar merges with the sun tonight and travels with it through the underworld. What happens with the sun in the morning?”

“It’s reborn,” they said at the same time.

“Exactly.” Nakhtmin smiled. “That’s why the onion is sacred to the god Sokar, because it travels through the underworld. And there’s another reason. Its tang that makes your eyes water also wafts into the noses of the dead and breathes life into them.”

“Hetepet’s nose too?”

“Yes, it does that for Hetepet as well. Now you know why it’s so important that you wear the onions. She’ll receive new life from you.”

Open-mouthed they stared at him in awe. “Yes,” one whispered. “You’re real smart.”

The passage took quite some time since the necropolis of the dynasty’s previous kings had been abandoned. The rocks surrounding it were too crumbly to dig tunnels into them. They passed the walls of the weryt, then the tall pyramids of the transfigured pharaohs Senusret I and Amenemhet I. Nakhtmin woefully commemorated little Hetepet and hoped the god in his form of Ptah-Sokar-Osiris, responsible for fertility, continuance and death, would safely lead her to the fields of the blessed. On many barks people sang, but overall the mood was rather subdued and melancholy like on the priest’s boat.

Mutnofret eventually intoned one of the traditional songs. She had a beautiful, clear voice. Nakhtmin joined in, and together they greeted the dead while gradually the outlines of the gigantic pyramids, burial places for the god kings of ancient times, moved into their view. The current pharaoh’s father lay under a pyramid upstream of the capital. Senusret III, however, had his eternal resting place built near the pyramid of his grandfather, Amenemhet II. Here were also the mastabas, in which the court officials were entombed. Hetepet had been taken to a chamber in the tomb of Ameny’s parents.

The torch-lit path up an incline to the flat-roofed rectangular structures rising above the desert sand took them past a rock plateau. It wasn’t easy to stay together in the jostling crowd of people coming from the piers. When, at last, they reached the chapel of the family tomb, the Amun priest made a sacrifice of drink and smoke. At the false door to the grave, they lay down their onion wreaths. Through this stone slab, shaped like a door, the kas of the dead could enter and leave their tomb and partake of the offerings brought by the family and by priests of the necropolis.

Together with Ameny, Nakhtmin recited the prayer asking Sokar to illuminate the countenance of the deceased. The onions symbolized the sun and its everlasting journey across the firmament. Nakhtmin placed one hand on the massive building blocks of Hetepet’s resting place and also prayed the mighty god would take his parents and the other murdered girls on his bark. He found the towering walls of the burial site rather depressing. In silence, the family said good-bye to their beloved. Even the always-so-dapper twins Huni and Bata were dumbstruck.

The torches had burned down when the family joined the procession of citizens returning to the riverbank. In the dark, Nakhtmin tripped a few times over rocks and bumps in the ground. The path was so crowded, he more than once stepped on the heels of the man walking in front of him. The humid night air still smelled of onions since their odor clung to the festive collars of the courtiers. Despite the large number of people, it was eerily quiet. All of a sudden, a scream sliced through the silence. Movement stalled. News passed from mouth to ear, “Ahead someone collapsed.”

Without thinking, Nakhtmin struggled through the bystanders until he reached a knot of people. “Let me through, I’m a doctor!” he called.

Sluggishly they made way for him. He bent over a young girl, almost a child still, lying on the ground. Last time he’d seen her on Neferib’s lap. A dry sob erupted from his throat. It was the daughter of the Golden Ibis innkeeper. Somebody brought a torch, and in its shine he registered she still wore the same rags as back then. The girl was beyond help, his experienced fingers told him, but he didn’t say so aloud. If he announced her demise, the priests of the necropolis would take her straight to the House of Death. However, he absolutely needed to examine her body before all evidence once again disappeared behind the impenetrable walls of the weryt. “She’s unconscious. I’ll take her on our boat and to the House of Life, where I can help her.”

He glanced up at the bystanders and detected Ameny’s face among them and sent a silent plea for his permission. The priest caught on quickly, gave a curt nod and stepped forth. Together they lifted the limp body and carried it the short distance to the pier.

On the family bark, they placed the body on one of the reed mats lying at the stern for passengers to sit on. Nakhtmin dipped a corner of the awning into the Nile water and acted as if he cooled his patient’s forehead. Murmured conversation between Lady Isis and her husband drifted over to him. Obviously, she was too tired to puzzle over their strange behavior, just like the twins and Mutnofret, since she seemed to accept Ameny’s curt explanation. Soon the gentle rocking of the boat put the women and children fast asleep.

The sun god sent his first rays across the horizon when the bark reached the harbor of the capital. Plenty of boats already bobbed up and down at the piers, and sleepy people staggered onto land. Nakhtmin also stumbled as he stepped on firm ground. He was so tired that it took him much longer to adjust to the lack of rocking motions underneath him. Ameny helped his wife carry the still-sleeping twins ashore. Trembling, Isis and Mutnofret stood on the planks, each a child in her arms. Nakhtmin sure appreciated the palanquin awaiting them. Even cheeky Mutnofret appeared lost and fragile this morning.

As soon as the bearers had carried off their human freight, Ameny said, “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

Nakhtmin didn’t need to ask who he meant and nodded. “It’s the daughter of the innkeeper of the Golden Ibis.” Since Ameny showed no sign of understanding, he added, “That’s the drinking hole where Shepses’s brother died. Because of her, Neferib and Hori had that fight.”

Ameny clenched his fists. “And again the thread leads straight to Shepses.”

Nakhtmin thought along the same lines but wanted to make sure. “Wait until we’ve examined her. Only when we’ve seen the deadly wound will we know with certainty. That’s why I didn’t want to leave her there with the dead.”

The priest pulled a grim face. “I’m already convinced. Quick, let’s take her to the House of Life as if she were a patient before the other doctors arrive. We might finally get proof!”

Together they hauled the body ashore. Stiffness of death had already set in, and she wasn’t as easy to carry as before. Nakhtmin glanced along the harbor promenade, but couldn’t spot any palanquins for rent. Maybe that was just as well. Common people’s superstitious fear of the dead might have led the bearers to reject such an eerie cargo. Fortunately it wasn’t far to the temple. Still, a stretcher would have come in handy. With a sigh, he grabbed the girl’s legs, while Ameny slipped his arms around her chest.

Inpu showed surprise when Nakhtmin and Ameny arrived this early with their ‘patient ’. Judging by his disparaging scrutiny of the girl’s rags, he didn’t send them to the yard where paupers were treated only because of Nakhtmin’s high-ranking company. “Take her to the first room to the left,” he ordered.

Nakhtmin stretched his back in relief as soon as they’d placed the corpse on the table.

Ameny, too, groaned and touched his lower back. “I’m getting old,” he said.

It was still fairly dark in the room, so they lit one of the oil lamps with the flint stone and cinder lying next to it, then lit all they could find with the first one. The light reflected by bronze mirrors illuminated the room enough.

With expert moves Nakhtmin undressed the corpse. “Under the left breast,” he murmured and bent over the naked body. His fingers couldn’t feel an injury. “Hand me the lamp.” He reached back and wasn’t surprised when he felt the weight of the clay bowl in his palm, but then he realized he’d commanded the powerful priest like a servant. Ameny seemed not to have noticed or didn’t care because he, too, was curious. In the light of the flame, Nakhtmin found what he’d been looking for. “There!”

Visibly excited, Ameny bent over the wispy body, while Nakhtmin illuminated the spot and pointed.

“Yes, I see it. So tiny. Are you sure this wound caused her death?” Ameny ran a hand over his face in confusion.

“I’m sure because Hori is. He’d held Hetepet’s heart in his hands and described the injuries on it for me.” Nakhtmin needed a moment to identify the strange noise beside him: the prophet ground his teeth. “Unfortunately we can’t tell anyone about it,” Nakhtmin continued. “And if you harbor doubts…” His voice failed. Indeed, how could they convince the other doctors that this small stab wound wasn’t an insect bite? The girl’s body showed a few of those. The strange discoloration in the shape of a blossom, which Hori had mentioned, wasn’t visible here. His friend had speculated it might have developed later. On Hetepet’s body, Hori had discovered it two days after her death, on Merit-Neith’s forty days later. Of course, they couldn’t keep the poor child here for that long. Then he thought of another problem. How should they explain to the Medjay why they had been looking for an injury in this particular spot? Nakhtmin’s body went limp with disappointment. He’d placed so much hope on this new evidence, and now they stood here just as stumped as before. He sank onto the low stool next to the table.

Ameny’s heart seemed weighted with the same concerns. “We have to try, at least. I’ll go to the house of the Medjay right away and report this death as murder. Maybe someone there will believe us.”

“Yes.” At a loss, Nakhtmin asked, “What was she doing there, and why wasn’t her father with her? If he’d taken his family to lay down an offering at the grave of his ancestors, why didn’t he notice her disappearance? We should have encountered him at the pier, if not earlier.”

“I guess we’ll find out. Whether Nebit and his kin made the journey, we don’t need to ask. They certainly brought Neferib their sacrifices. Even without a fresh death in the family, courtiers wouldn’t miss this festive ritual. And they do own a splendid boat, unlike the innkeeper of the harbor tavern, I assume.”

That sparked an idea. “Maybe the innkeeper coaxed a guest to take him and his daughter across the river to the necropolis. Many fishermen and ferry workers frequent these taverns.”

Ameny lifted one eyebrow. A smile twitched around the corners of his mouth. “You know a lot about the harbor district.”

Nakhtmin’s face burned. “My hut is in that area…”

The priest had turned serious again. “No use procrastinating the inevitable. We’ll just raise suspicion. Cover the body and take care nobody messes with it. I’ll notify Inpu and go to the Medjay.” Lips tightened to a thin line, he marched out the door. Nakhtmin heard him talk to the head of the House of Life in the corridor. A little later, the door flung open. Inpu as well as the head of doctors entered. Nakhtmin groaned. He sure wouldn’t be able to convince Imhotepankh.