Day 8 of month Ka-her-ka in Peret, season of the emergence
“I couldn’t have made it through another day without news from you.” Hori shivered in the cold night air. Nakhtmin’s embrace warmed not only his heart.
“Here, I’ve brought you a cloak. You can hide it under the rock later.”
Grateful, Hori wrapped the warm fabric around himself. “Now, tell me,” he demanded. “What happened?” The clouds had moved on, and an almost full moon illuminated Nakhtmin’s grin.
“He has been caught!” he exclaimed.
“Tell me—was it Nebit?”
“Yes, Nebit. And it was great, so great, that you unmasked him. When we returned from our last visit to the Beautiful West, Nebit was on a nocturnal prowl.” He reported what happened that night.
“Caught in the act! He’ll never be able to talk his way out of it.”
“No. At dawn the Medjay arrested him. The ph…uhm.” Nakhtmin stalled.
“What?”
“The prophet.”
“Yes, what about Ameny?” Had Nakhtmin meant say something else? Was he hiding something? Did he not trust him?
For a moment his friend seemed at a loss, then his features relaxed. “The prophet will soon be my father-in-law,” Nakhtmin blurted.
Hori wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Really? How did that happen? So, you and Mutnofret? And I thought you couldn’t stand her because she likes to tease you. Well, I’ve been suspecting you two might become an item for quite a while now.”
“He-he, very funny, these jokes at my expense. Muti is showering them on me. Earlier today, she called me a yokel because I didn’t recognize the clues she gave me.” He relayed how father and daughter had taken him by surprise.
Hori shook with laughter. His friend really was rather clumsy when it came to women. He’d probably never have approached Ameny’s daughter, might not even have acknowledged his feelings to himself. The thought of how the girl had not only showed Nakhtmin the door to happiness but had to push him through was hilarious.
“Are you done yet?” Nakhtmin was the emblem of hurt pride.
“I’m sorry, my friend. I don’t have much reason to laugh and it felt real good.”
Nakhtmin pressed his lips together and only uttered monosyllabic responses. The feeling he was hiding something sneaked up on Hori again.
“You’ll hear from me when I learn more,” Nakhtmin said and took his leave.
Hori watched him march off. What was wrong with his friend? He should be singing with joy. Hori buried the cloak and hurried back to the weryt. The nights were really too cold now! He braced himself before diving into the chilly stream of the canal. Huffing and puffing, he broke through the surface on the other side of the wall and climbed out of the shallow water. Good thing he’d hidden a linen cloth in a cranny. He quickly dried himself off and wrapped the fabric around his trembling body.
What was that? A crunching noise like footsteps on sand. He froze. No, he must have imagined it. This wasn’t the first time he’d felt watched during his excursions to the outside world. Illusions. If someone had spotted him, there’d have been an immediate outrage. His door to the world was only visible from a few houses. Maybe a sleepless wanderer? In the silence of the night, sounds traveled far. Nevertheless, he stood still for a while longer. Once again his senses had played a trick on him. Shaking his head, he trotted toward his house.
When he lay in bed, it dawned on him that Nakhtmin hadn’t mentioned the king’s reaction to the arrest of his vizier or Sitamun’s fate. He jerked up. And what about himself? Had his involvement in the investigation been mentioned? Had Nebit confessed the other murders as well? Actually, Nakhtmin had hardly told him anything.
Then he realized Nakhtmin had no more reason to meet him now that the villain had been caught. The very thought hurt. He’d uncovered Nebit’s crimes, but his life wouldn’t change. Inside the walls of the weryt, life followed its daily course determined by the rhythm of death. He remained a beggar at the table of life, having to contend with the crumbs others threw at him. Only now, he became fully aware how much he’d hoped success in clearing up these murders would better his own fate. The acknowledgment brought on more pain, much more pain. Was that the reason for Nakhtmin’s omissions? Did his friend know something he couldn’t tell because it would only make things worse? Had he seriously hoped the pharaoh would quash his judgment when Nebit was executed? Had he even thought that far? At a loss, he stared into the darkness of his chamber. No. It was time to be completely honest with himself. He knew the secrets of the weryt. Nobody would ever let him leave this place.