Day 25 of month Ka-her-ka in Peret, season of the emergence
Nakhtmin’s trust was sorely tried. Ameny had barred him from crossing the Nile again, to leave a message for Hori.
When asked for the reasons, he replied, “Not even I do know the specifics, but as second prophet of Amun, I have an inkling what the mer-ut and the pharaoh—life, prosperity and health—had in mind. We absolutely cannot endanger Hori’s status now, nor distract him. I believe he’s facing a hard test.”
Nakhtmin appreciated the distraction of work and wedding preparations. Although he still lived with Ameny, he’d returned to his practice at the House of Life. Mutnofret no longer needed a bodyguard but a respectable roof over her head. He had no illusions. To gather the needed wealth would take a long time. Likely, Ameny would consent to giving him Muti’s dowry in advance to buy a stately home, but his pride rebelled against that. He wanted to achieve it on his own. Maybe Muti would content herself with a humble house in the artisans’ quarter?
At least his position in the House of Life had much improved. After Nebit’s arrest and the extent of his crimes had become known, Imhotepankh had personally taken care he could treat patients who’d reward him generously.
He bandaged the wound on a cook’s finger and sent off his last patient with good advice. Deep in thought, he brushed over his instruments. They were made to heal the ailing, not for killing. He folded the leather inward, below and above the tools held in place by loops, then rolled up the kit. A knock startled him. He sighed with reluctance. Another patient running late? The door opened.
“Are you Nakhtmin the physician?” The man wore the insignia of royal servants around his neck: an amulet of the double crown.
“Yes, I am.”
“His majesty the king of Upper and Lower Egypt—life, prosperity and health—wishes to see you. Would you follow me, please?”
While Nakhtmin loped after the man, he had no peace of mind to appreciate the glorious view of the boulevard dipped in evening light. What could the king want with him? Did he have news of Hori’s fate? He sure hoped so—and feared it. The mer-ut’s voice hadn’t inspired any confidence.
They passed through the double doors, and Nakhtmin’s feet wanted to turn toward the labyrinth of corridors, where the administration offices were located, but the envoy headed in a different direction. Curious, Nakhtmin followed him. The man strode past the large hall and entered a broad hallway. In this part of the palace, Nakhtmin had never been before. The servant knocked on a beautiful door of painted wood. Although Nakhtmin heard no response from inside, his companion opened the door and motioned for him to enter.
The room was larger than he’d expected and featured a gallery like the one in the large hall with a throne and several resplendent chairs. This had to be the small hall of the king. He was alone but not for long. A door at the back of the room opened, and the king entered, flanked by several dignitaries. Before Nakhtmin flung himself onto the floor, he recognized scribe Thotnakht among them and, even more surprisingly, Sobekemhat, Hori’s father.
At a knock, another person entered the room. Since Nakhtmin had to keep his face turned to the floor until the king allowed him to rise, he only saw the feet of the new arrival. The man threw himself to the ground a step behind him.
Somebody tapped a staff against the floor. “His majesty, the king of Upper and Lower Egypt, Strong Bull, of the Sedge and the Bee—life, prosperity and health—accepts your reverence. You may rise, Nakhtmin, son of Nakhtmin, and Hori, son of Sobekemhat.”
Nakhtmin jumped up as if stung. Indeed! Next to him stood his friend. Hori winked at him, a subtle smile on his face. Questions upon questions stormed at Nakhtmin. Only, now wasn’t the time to ask them. A slight cough drew his attention to the royal gallery.
“In recognition of loyal services rendered, the doctors Nakhtmin and Hori are appointed personal physicians of his majesty.”
Confused, Nakhtmin looked around. Did Thotnakht really mean him?
The pharaoh’s scribe descended the stairs, holding two papyrus scrolls with the royal seal in one hand. Sobekemhat followed with a strongbox of dark wood. Thotnakht handed him one scroll and gave the other to Hori—their certificates of appointment. The king’s physician—no doctor in the Two Lands could strive for a higher honor.
Sobekemhat opened the lid of the box, and Nakhtmin thought himself caught in a dream. Dazed, he lowered his head as Thotnakht placed the gold of honor around his shoulders, a precious collar that would easily buy him a great estate for Muti. His cheeks flared up with embarrassment. How could he think of exchanging the venerable gold! Reverentially, he stroked the smooth metal slowly warming on his body.
Hori, too, received his decoration. Nakhtmin noticed Sobekemhat’s hands trembled. The old man gazed at his son in silence and rested one hand on his shoulder. Before he could retreat behind his desk on the gallery, the king stopped him.
“Stay with your son, Sobekemhat. I have another appointment to announce.”
Thotnakht received another sealed scroll from the ruler of the Two Lands and proclaimed, “A loyal official of the treasury, Sobekemhat, son of Weni, has served his majesty well. From today on, he shall be removed from his office. Instead, he will serve the pharaoh as vizier and assist in governing the Two Lands.”
The face of Hori’s father turned crimson. He bowed several times. “What an honor! I thank your majesty for your trust.”
“Know that you owe your elevation to your son.”
Sobekemhat lowered his head. “I will do my best to serve you and the Two Lands.”
To Nakhtmin he seemed abashed. He didn’t know much about the relationship between father and son, only that they weren’t close. Hopefully, Sobekemhat would hold his youngest in higher esteem from now on.
“One more thing. Your oldest son Teti will succeed you in your position at the treasury.”
Thotnakht handed Sobekemhat the last scroll.
The king dismissed his officials and asked Nakhtmin and Hori to follow him. They walked through the pharaoh’s private living space into the lush, blooming garden. The whole way, Nakhtmin had been bursting with curiosity and now he couldn’t hold back any longer. “Hori? Dear gods, is it really you?” He touched the shoulders and face of his friend as if he might be a phantasm.
Laughing, Hori fought off his hands. “Yes, it’s really me.”
Nakhtmin scrutinized him. How unfamiliar his friend looked now that he was wearing a doctor’s wig again—so grown up. “Why…?”
Senusret interrupted. “Never ask how this came about. Hori must keep the secret forever. This is all you may know: Besides the mer-ut, your friend is the only human being allowed to enter and leave the weryt. However, he must guard its secrets.”
Nakhtmin looked from the pharaoh to his friend. The two seemed strangely familiar with each other, and he felt left out although he’d been the one to report to the pharaoh and stay in contact with Hori. He should be the link between the two men. Straight away he felt ashamed of his pettiness. His hand touched his chest, where the decoration of his majesty lay heavily. Royal physician, gold of honor, Hori—for a moment it all became too much for him. He walked to a tree, leaned against its trunk and closed his eyes.
“In two days the Great Kenbet will convene to try Nebit,” Senusret’s voice announced.
Nakhtmin wiped a hand over his face and looked at the king. “In two days already!”
“The earlier, the better,” Hori said.
Senusret gave a grim nod. “You, Nakhtmin, might have to testify if Nebit asks for witnesses to be heard. Since we have his confession, there’s no need to mention Hori’s involvement in the investigation of his crimes.”
Nakhtmin exhaled in relief. Hori might be a free man, rehabilitated and guiltless—still, nobody should find out they’d met. Hori hadn’t betrayed the secrets of the weryt, but would anyone take his word for it? Best to keep the whole affair to themselves with only Ameny, Hori, the king and himself knowing it ever happened. “May I ask how the two of us earned the honor and trust to become your majesty’s personal physicians?” he asked.
A smile softened the young king’s rugged features. “I’ve made some inquiries. One of you…” He nodded toward Hori. “…likes to explore new ways and knows how to connect what he learned with what he encounters. The other is thorough and methodical. He misses nothing. His instructors also say he has the gift of seeing beneath people’s skins to detect what ails them. It would be stupid not to avail myself of such skills.”
“Has his majesty told you our new positions include estates in the quarter of courtiers?” Hori asked. “You and I will be neighbors.”
“That means I can take Muti to our new home?”
Hori laughed. “You only think of women!”
Day 27 of month Ka-her-ka in Peret, season of the emergence
As Nakhtmin entered the palace on the day of the trial, a throng of curious people gathered before the double gates. News had spread about which high official had to answer for what crimes today. Excited voices swirled around Nakhtmin’s head. The vizier a murderer? No common occurrence.
The hall was full of people. Were all these officials and courtiers here to witness the event? So typical. As long as a man held power, everyone bowed to him. Woe to the mighty who falls from grace! Nakhtmin had to fight his way through the crowd to the front. If some of the judges weren’t different today, he’d feel transported back to that day of Hori’s sentencing. Today, however, Nebit stood there as the accused instead of sitting next to the pharaoh. Hori’s father now occupied that place of honor. Nakhtmin’s gaze wandered to where Sobekemhat had sat the last time. The young man in the treasurer’s chair had to be Hori’s brother Teti. He appeared excited. No wonder. His first time as a judge, and in such a sensational case, too.
Thotnakht rose, and the buzz of voices ebbed. Nakhtmin saw the pain in the eyes of the first scribe. Now he knew how his daughter had died. With trembling fingers the man unrolled the arraignment scroll, but his voice was firm. “Nebit, son of Amunhotep, you are charged with numerous crimes. You are accused of…”
Nakhtmin didn’t want to listen to the long list of victims. Instead, he wondered if Hori was here and turned to search the crowd behind him. Fairly close, he spotted the brothers Shepses and Hotep. Would they be called as witnesses? Where was Sitamun? Then he saw Ameny and weaved through the people toward him.
Thotnakht had reached the end of the indictment. Now, the king directly addressed his former vizier, “Nebit, son of Amunhotep, you have already made a confession. Law demands you repeat it in front of your judges.”
Nakhtmin stared at the defendant’s back. While his shoulders had drooped before, a tremor ran through is body now. “Bastet was the first…”
“Speak up!” the king ordered. “You are talking of Bastet, daughter of Thotnakht?”
The scribe’s face had paled.
Nebit nodded. “Bastet was the first.” Now his voice sounded triumphant, challenging. “But it almost went wrong. So I had do improve my method.”
“How did you kill her?” A hoarse voice had spoken the question. Thotnakht’s? For a moment, Nakhtmin had averted his gaze.
“I had a doctor’s instrument kit made for my son Shepses. The needles it contained seemed very suitable to me. I took one of them and stabbed Bastet with it, straight into the heart.”
“Bastard!”
Who had called that? Nakhtmin looked around. Scorn distorted Shepses’s face.
Nebit didn’t seem to have heard since he continued unmoved. “I believed the jab to be deadly, but she ran away. I chased after her to prevent her telling anyone who had injured her. Then she dropped dead.”
“Why did you kill her in this manner?” Senusret asked.
“I wanted to harm her where she’d caused me pain.”
“How could Bastet hurt your heart? Did you love her?”
The accused snorted in disgust. “How could I have loved a stupid girl like her? She messed around with my son, and that displeased the one to whom my heart belongs.”
“You’re referring to your son Shepses and your wife Sitamun?”
“Who else?” Nebit half turned his face to the audience in the hall. A devious smile showed on his face. “And it had to look like a natural death.”
Thotnakht lowered his head. A tear rolled down his cheek. “My poor daughter. Nobody had the slightest idea.”
“Yes, I was smart. And I refined my method by dipping the needle in the venom of a king cobra.”
The pharaoh interrupted him. “Where did you get the poison?”
Nebit held his chin up high. “Your majesty wears the cobra on your forehead for protection. It adorns all your crowns. I kept the royal snakes for my protection.” Such presumptuousness sent a ripple of disgruntled murmurs through the crowd. “I milked them so their bite wouldn’t harm me. As a welcome side effect, I always had a sufficient supply for my improved weapon. Soon I got the chance to make sure it worked fast and deadly. Shepses dallied with Ankhes, and the Great Royal Wife talked to me about joining those two in wedlock. I could not allow such a thing to happen.”
The king grimaced in pain. “Why couldn’t you allow it?” he squeezed out between clenched teeth.
“I’ve said it already! Sitamun wants to keep her sons around her. She will not tolerate it if one of them tries to leave and set up his own household.”
Nakhtmin watched people around him shake their heads in disbelief.
“I caught Ankhes in the royal gardens. Using the pretext of wanting to talk to her about the engagement, I approached her. It was easy. She died between one heartbeat and the next. And again, nobody suspected foul play.”
“This was not your last crime?” Senusret prompted.
Nebit sighed. “The boy, Shepses, he simply didn’t get it. Behind our backs he got engaged with Merit-Neith. I had to make haste getting her out of the way. With our boat tied to the pier of her parents’ house, I lurked in the garden until she was alone. Next came Hetepet. I noticed right away what was going on between the two when I saw them together. This time I nipped romantic entanglement in the bud. She used to pick up her father every day.”
Ameny clutched Nakhtmin’s hand and squeezed it so hard it hurt.
“You are talking of the daughter of the second prophet of Amun and the vestibule of Amun’s temple? That’s where she was found.”
Nebit gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “No challenge for me. Nobody saw me arrive, nobody saw me leave. Killing the little tavern harlot provided far more obstacles. Who’d have thought she, of all people, was never to be found alone?”
“He means Nebet-Het, daughter of the innkeeper of the Golden Ibis,” Thotnakht explained to the other judges.
“Why did Nebet-Het have to die? Don’t tell us Shepses wanted to marry her,” the king said.
The former vizier gave a wry laugh. “It was her doing. The slut! Because of her, Neferib died. That aggrieved my love. Our son, our oldest!”
“Silence!” the pharaoh thundered. “The judges of the Great Kenbet have recently ruled Neferib’s death an accident. He died because of his own fault after he wanted to violate the girl Nebet-Het.”
The audience whispered excitedly. Nakhtmin could hardly believe it himself although he’d known for a while now. Hearing it all in context fully exposed the vileness of this family.
“Slut!” Nebit growled. “I caught her at the Netjeryt festival. She was among those visiting the dead in the necropolis. Nobody recognized me in the crowd. With this deed I honored my dead son. I sacrificed her to him as was his due.”
Such sacrilege silenced the people in the hall. With that alone Nebit had condemned himself.
Senusret dug deeper. “Tell us about the crime when you were caught in the act. The murder of Penu, servant in the house of the second prophet of Amun, and the attempt on Mutnofret’s life, his second daughter.”
Nebit turned around and let his gaze wander over the faces until it met Nakhtmin’s. “There!” Nebit pointed a finger at him. “This guy always accompanied Mutnofret although she was promised to my son. Because of him, I never met her alone.”
This time Nakhtmin squeezed Ameny’s hand.
“I sent one of my wife’s maids to Penu, servant in Ameny’s house. She seduced him and promised to return to him that night if he left his door to the garden unbolted.” Nebit laughed as if he’d told a great joke. “It was not she who embraced him but death. What a gloomy night it was! I couldn’t find the girl’s chamber right away, needed a lamp. In the kitchen of the house, I found one. When I finally reached the right door, the minx was awake. She recognized me in the flame’s light and fought me as if she knew my intentions.”
Nakhtmin sighed with relief. Fortunately, Mutnofret really had known.
“This bodyguard of hers appeared and apprehended me.” Again he pointed his finger at Nakhtmin.
All gazes turned to him and he proudly lifted his chin. Even if Muti had actually struck down the villain, he’d done his share in catching this dangerous criminal. When the accused ended his confession, the hall turned very quiet. They’ve all had enough, Nakhtmin guessed. He wasn’t the only one to feel relief over Nebit waiving his right to call witnesses to speak in his favor. The judges saw fit to render judgment without calling witnesses for the prosecution. The man had thoroughly convicted himself.
Consultation took little time, and the sentence was cruel, but not unexpected: death by fire.