Encounter with the God of Death

Day 8 of month Ka-her-ka in Peret, season of the emergence

Nakhtmin turned away from Hori and hastened toward the river, where he’d tied up the small boat. He’d almost slipped up. His heart urged him to tell, but his oath bound him. He wished he could reveal everything to Hori, from their discussion with the king to Sitamun’s interrogation and Senusret’s cunning trick. As soon as he mentioned one bit, though, he’d have to reveal it all.

Senusret hadn’t said a word about doing anything to help Hori. Leisurely, Nakhtmin paddled across the river. How many times more would he be able to do this? Moist, cold air rose from the water and chilled him to the bones. Visions of Mutnofret’s warm body flashed in his mind. His heart grew heavy. Once he was married to Muti, choosing between her fiery embrace and that of the Nile god would be tough. With a start, he realized she knew nothing about Hori and must never learn about his involvement. How could he possibly keep that from her and still visit his friend? Muti wouldn’t pester him with questions for long; instead she’d simply sneak after him until she received answers.

Soon he would have to part with his friend for good. No matter how much he liked Hori, he was dead to the world—and he, Nakhtmin, lived. Hori couldn’t expect him to risk his life and happiness for his sake. Saying good-bye wouldn’t come easy to either of them, though. His throat tightened; a tear rolled down his cheek. Annoyed, he wiped it away. Too early to mourn their friendship. There was still hope!

The next morning, the king’s envoy fetched Nakhtmin and the prophet. As before, he took them to the pharaoh’s office. This time, Senusret sat at his desk and looked up when they entered. A smile softened the hard lines in his face. Hopefully that meant good news, Nakhtmin thought.

Senusret lifted the papyrus he’d been reading and flicked his index finger against it. “This is Nebit’s full confession.”

Ameny heaved a deep breath, and Nakhtmin too felt a heavy burden drop from his heart.

“The full confession of all murders?” the priest asked.

“All of them. There’s even one more than we thought. Bastet too, the daughter of my scribe Thotnakht, fell prey to him.”

“I thought so!” Nakhtmin blurted.

The king furrowed his brow. “You knew about it?”

“I…yes…no.” Nakhtmin shrank under the king’s threatening stare. “We suspected she might have been part of the series, but she’d died too long ago. Hori had asked the utu about young girls being taken to the weryt with no obvious cause of death visible on the body. Two names came up: Bastet and Ankhes. I did my research, found a connection between Ankhes and the vizier’s family, but nobody could give me any clues about Bastet. According to her mother, she was found in one of the public parks with several scratches on her as if she’d run through shrubs.”

“Hm.” Senusret rubbed his chin. His beard stubble made a scraping noise. “This fits with Nebit’s statement. Bastet was his first victim and he hadn’t yet thought of covering the needle in snake venom as he did with the others.” Senusret shuddered. “She didn’t die fast enough for him. He stabbed her, but she was still able to run away.”

Nakhtmin recalled their experiment with the goat and told the pharaoh about it.

“By the gods, you are thorough!” the king called. “That explains why Nebit couldn’t risk his victims running off. They might have encountered someone and revealed his identity.” Again, Senusret shuddered. “That man is totally crazy! He has no conscience, knows no scruples. He reveres only one religion and that is Sitamun. She is his goddess and high priestess of her own cult.”

“Didn’t Nebit realize his wife surrendered him to his judges?” Ameny asked incredulously.

The king snorted. “Like I said, he’s crazy. He’s fully aware of what’s going on but sees himself as a sacrifice on the altar of their love. He’s more than willing to do it.” Senusret seemed exhausted. The interrogation must have been a strain.

Nakhtmin nodded. Just like he’d pictured the vizier’s insanity. That left only one question, although deep down he knew the answer. “Did he admit Sitamun knew of his crimes?”

The pharaoh shook his head. “He knew what displeased her. She didn’t have to say it out loud.”

Then Nakhtmin remembered something else. “Did you ask him about Hori’s trial?”

A slight smile played around Senusret’s lips. “Oh yes, I did. He confessed to bribing and intimidating witnesses. Not that we really needed a confirmation. Before Nebit is tried, I’ll call on the Great Kenbet to convene in secret and revoke Hori’s sentencing.”

Nakhtmin jumped up with joy. “But… That’s fantastic!”

Senusret calmed him down. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean Hori can walk out of the weryt a free man.”

Ameny groaned. “The weryt is final. Nothing may leave its walls—no secret and certainly no bearer of its secrets.”

Everything inside Nakhtmin rebelled, but he knew these men were right. The laws of the weryt were untouchable—above the king’s rule. It had been an extraordinary feat to get Hori accepted into the community of the utu. Only one way to leave the weryt: as a mummy.

After a knock at the door, a servant stuck his head in. “Your majesty! He whom you are expecting has arrived.” The man looked ashen around his nose.

“Show him in,” the king commanded.

Neither Nakhtmin nor Ameny were prepared for what they saw. The god of the dead, Anubis in the flesh, stood on the threshold and scrutinized them with his lifeless eyes. Nakhtmin sank onto one knee, and the prophet beside him followed suit.

“This is Hut-Nefer, the mer-ut,” Senusret explained.

Nakhtmin almost cracked up. It was a mask! Of course, only a mask. But it was so well crafted he’d fallen for it. He rose and stood on watery legs.

“This is the second time you ask me to enter the realm of the living, my king.” The voice sounded dull but distinct.

Maybe the mer-ut was only allowed to leave the weryt in this attire so he couldn’t approach anyone and nobody would want to get near him. Everyone in the Two Lands feared the jackal-headed god.

“And I want to ask the same thing of you only in reverse.”

“Explain yourself.”

“Soon the judgment against Hori, son of Sobekemhat, will be revoked. The plaintiff confessed to bribing witnesses. The court issued a wrongful conviction, and Maat demands its revision.”

The black head lowered in agreement. “I understand your wish. Alas, Hori must never leave the weryt except as a dead man.”

Nakhtmin wanted to cry out, “But right now he is dead!” He knew, though, it couldn’t be that easy.

“This is your last word?” the pharaoh asked.

Again the mask lowered.

Nakhtmin despaired. There was no negotiating with a god—this god. Still, there had to be a way!

“Hori must become an akh to leave those walls. This has never happened to anyone, whose heart was still beating, except for the mer-ut.”

Nakhtmin couldn’t hold back any longer. “Is there no way for Hori to live and be dead at the same time? I mean—now he is a dead man who lives. Can’t he be turned into a living man who is dead?” He knew how absurd all this sounded, but he so wanted to help his friend. The masked head of the god of death whipped around to him. Nakhtmin froze.

“Leave this room! Now!” the mer-ut thundered.

Ameny flinched just the same as Nakhtmin. Both turned to the king, but his face revealed nothing. The mer-ut was obviously in charge here. Wordlessly they retreated and closed the door behind them.

Standing in the hallway, Nakhtmin asked, “Did I say something wrong?” He was shaken to the core.

Slowly, signs of understanding brightened Ameny’s face. “No, my boy. You said the exactly right thing.”

“I don’t understand.”

“And you must not. If it is what I think it is, powerful magic will be at work. Only the highest ordained priests know it. Not even I am entitled to such dangerous knowledge, but maybe someday. Have faith.”

Easier said than done.