A Banquet with Consequences

Day 5 of month Renutet in Shemu, season of the harvest

In the evening, Hori donned his best shendyt, starched so intensely that the front stuck out. After some consideration, he chose a neck collar with pearls of lapis lazuli and carnelian, broad enough to cover his shoulders, and picked up the amulet with the Eye of Horus. Had this been worth alienating his family?

“Whatever.” He pressed his lips together and slipped the golden necklace over his head. Diligently, he circled his eyes with kohl and extended his eye line to his temples. The curly wig, cut in steps, and the sandals made of artfully braided bulrush completed his outfit. He left his parents’ house without saying good-bye.

The sun had already set, but it wasn’t far to the vizier’s place, and Hori knew the way. The scarce light of torches mounted to the gates of noble premises sufficed. Turning a corner, he glimpsed the Nile. The mountains at the western bank loomed dark against the dark blue sky. Glowing dots marked the buildings on the other side of the river, the temple complex of Anubis. Farther downstream lay the separated compound, in which the dead were prepared for their journey to the Beautiful West. A dog howled, or maybe a jackal in the desert. Their cries sometimes carried from afar across the water. The noise sounded eerie and made Hori pick up his pace on the last stretch. He reached the enclosing wall of Nebit’s premises.

The vizier’s house stood in an expansive park adjoining the river and boasted its own jetty. The gate was brightly illuminated. As soon as Hori stepped through it, the day’s lingering warmth and laughter enveloped him. Torches stuck into the ground lined the paths and showed his feet the way with their flickering light.

Finally, he reached a grassy area surrounded by bushes and trees. Lanterns fixed to branches illuminated long tables laden with dishes. Chatting guests stood around and laughed. At first, Hori felt blinded and strangely apart—like in a dream. For a while he hung back, thinking he didn’t belong here.

Somebody welcomed him cheerfully. “There’s Hori, the guest of honor. Come on over, we’ve been waiting for you.”

Hori recognized the caller and forced a smile. “Nakhtmin!” The face of the young doctor from Upper Egypt glowed with a reddish tinge in the lantern light. Likely, he’d already enjoyed some wine and seemed relieved by Hori’s arrival. Nakhtmin might feel even more out of place than he did.

Together they stepped into the illuminated area, and their host turned to them. The high official darted him a most unwelcoming look, then an amiable smile slid onto the vizier’s face. “I greet you, son of Sobekemhat. You and my son…” He pulled Shepses closer. “…are my guests of honor tonight.”

Son of Sobekemhat? Why can’t he use my name? Am I nothing and only worth being noticed because of my father’s position? Despite his misgivings he bowed. “Thank you, noble Nebit, for your invitation to the banquet this evening. Every single one of the young physicians well deserves this celebration.”

Nebit cast a glance at Nakhtmin, then at his crumpled, spotty shendyt and wrinkled his nose. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but reconsidered and waved his arm to call the young doctors to the tables. Hori was assigned to sit between Shepses and a young man who resembled him, likely his older brother Neferib. The seating order made very clear who was the real guest of honor tonight. Shepses sat to his father’s right side. Nebit’s gaze held warmth as he took in his family: his beautiful wife, the three sons and little daughter.

Curious, Hori appraised the table. In Nebit’s household, they really knew how to celebrate! Servants brought platters and bowls with steaming food. The view alone made Hori’s mouth water. Condensed water glittered on the jars of wine. Obviously, they’d been taken from the cooling wraps just now and promised refreshing contents. Hori took a tentative sip. Soft and sweet, the wine caressed his tongue. With relish he took a big gulp, and soon the alcohol went to his head. He’d better be careful and restrain himself.

The food was more delicious than anything he’d ever been served at home. His family ate far simpler meals. Hori savored the feast and forgot all his resentments against Shepses. He’d love to be part of this family with easy manners and openly displayed affection. Quite the opposite of his father’s strict reign. Over and over again, he filled his bowl. The food was very spicy and hot. To soothe the burning in his throat, he had his mug refilled as soon as he’d emptied it.

Conversation turned more lively at the table. Nebit’s wife, noble Sitamun, dominated with her easy chatter. Her husband hung on her every word. Although she flirted with her son’s young friends, the vizier didn’t show a hint of annoyance but gently stroked her arm. Whenever her mouth spilled pearls of laughter, he joined in. Otherwise he didn’t contribute to the small talk—perhaps it didn’t interest him.

Shepses’s mother enchanted Hori. She seemed so young. The full lips often parted for an enticing smile. When she bent forward, the shoulder straps of her dress hung loose and granted him a glimpse of the tips of her henna-colored nipples. He certainly appreciated the starching of his shendyt hiding his erection.

Wine and beer flowed like water. Some of the young men already needed to throw up into the bowls discretely presented by servants. Hori too felt drunk and hot. A group of young women emerged from the shadows of the trees—the entertainment commenced. A blind musician intoned a cheerful melody on her harp, and when the drums and sistrums set in and pounded the rhythm, the dancers, wearing only thin belts on their naked bodies, swayed with the beat.

Sitamun placed a hand on her husband’s arm and whispered in his ear. At the same time, her eyes glazed and her lewd gaze wandered over the young men until it met Hori’s. Had she winked at him just now?

Nebit rose. “I will retire. Tomorrow important tasks are awaiting me. But you should enjoy the evening as long as you like.”

As if on cue, the music grew louder and more gleeful. The guests settled on the lawn. Hori joined Meriamun and Nakhtmin, the two classmates he liked best. Lazily, the two enjoyed the performance of the dancers, while Hori, spell-bound, focused on fascinating Sitamun. The music seemed to carry her away. Shepses handed her a beaker of wine, which she quaffed down. Then—Hori didn’t trust his eyes—she stripped off her dress and joined the dancers. How her body swung and bent! Never had he seen a more desirable woman; he wanted to drag her into the bushes—or if not her, any woman would do right now just to get relief.

The other young men also stared at the vizier’s wife with lust-filled eyes. Faster and faster the music churned; the dancers’ moves turned ever more titillating. The naked girls approached the guests, circled them with cooing calls. Sitamun noticed Hori’s gaze and wove toward him. Imagining his fantasies might become true, he moaned and almost ejaculated. That brought him back to reality. He swallowed and quickly sobered. If he’d got carried away with her, he’d be facing severe consequences! Did Nebit know how his wife behaved? His erection dwindled as fast as it had come.

Sitamun stood directly in front of him. This close, he saw the wrinkles in her face despite the thick layer of make-up and the diffuse lighting. They revealed her true age. She sat on his lap astride and slid a hand under his shendyt. No, that couldn’t happen! She was married! The world spun around him. Nauseated, he pushed her off, jumped up and ran from the revelers. Sitamun’s now shrill laughter followed him. In the shadows of the trees, he threw up.

Trembling and gasping, he leaned against the trunk of a palm tree. He felt dirtied. His hands were sticky, but he didn’t want to wipe them on his shendyt lest he rub the stink of puke into the cloth. Were the servants still around? He peered across the clearing toward the tables. No, but maybe they’d left bowls with water so he could wash his hands. His throat burned. A sip of water would be real nice now. He staggered around the meadow toward the tables.

Where was Sitamun? Ah, there she danced around Meriamun, ensnaring him with her lascivious moves. The woman wanted to be satisfied. Hori shook his head in disbelief. Meriamun obviously had fewer qualms or was too drunk, because he pulled Nebit’s wife down to him. Soon the two were passionately groping each other. Hori couldn’t bear the view any longer. A pinch of jealousy seeped into his disgust. He almost stumbled over another lump of entangled limbs. The dancers pleasured his friends. The music was quieter now but seductively urgent. It accompanied the gasping and moaning of the copulating couples. Only moments ago, Hori had wanted nothing more than to shove his pulsing member into a willing body, now the view disgusted him. Sitamun’s outcries of lust rang far too loud in his ears. Didn’t Nebit hear what was going on in his garden? He glanced around.

Sweat glittered on Sitamun’s body. She’d finished with Meriamun and turned to another young man. When her new chosen one turned his face, Hori recognized Shepses. His mother bent over him and took his cock in her mouth. At first it looked like Shepses wanted to stave her off, then his eyes rolled upwards with pleasure. His body obviously reacted to the skilled tongue. Now his mother straddled him and guided his manhood deep inside her. In an almost violent ride, she took him as if Meriamun hadn’t been able to satisfy her.

Hori’s face burned with embarrassment. Didn’t anybody notice what was happening right before their eyes? How could a mother do something like that—with her own son! Shepses, however, didn’t seem to find her actions out of the ordinary, enjoyed them as if such things were normal. This was normal for him, Hori realized to his horror. She’d done it before and not only once. Now he noticed the looks of Shepses’s brothers. The face of the older Neferib as well as that of the younger Hotep reflected his own revulsion. Had they known? Now, Hori was really glad not to be part of such a family. Underneath the deceptively smooth surface, reflecting the image of Shepses’s family, lurked a crocodile. He went to the table and turned his back to the proceedings. Hopefully he could blank out the images with wine. He poured his beaker to the rim.

He didn’t remain alone for long. Neferib and Hotep joined him although Hori hadn’t spoken to them before. Neferib held an administrative position, that much he knew about the older brother of his classmate. He not only resembled Shepses, but also showed his cocky demeanor. Hotep, however, was lanky. The stooping posture and darting gaze gave him a skulking air, which Hori couldn’t really define. Instinctively, he took a dislike to Hotep. The youngest of the brothers hadn’t contributed at all to the conversation during the feast and appeared like a foreign body in the harmonious fabric of his family. But then he wondered how harmonious this family really was. Hotep lifted his beaker and toasted. The next moment, Hori realized why Nebit’s youngest acted so shyly. “To th-th-e -p-ph…”

“Yeah, yeah, to the pharaoh—life, prosperity and health,” Neferib interrupted and set his beaker in front of Hori. “Please excuse my brother, he’s a bit slow.”

“I-I-I’m n-not sl-l-ow.”

With a patronizing smile, Neferib mocked him. “I-I-I’m n-no-o-ot sl-l-l-l-l—not, certainly not, Hotep. Everyone needs that long to say one sentence.” He burst into laughter showing how drunk he was already.

Hori felt uncomfortable witnessing such humiliation. While Hotep only lowered his head in resignation, his own cheeks burned with mortification. His vague dislike of the young man changed into sympathy. With relief he welcomed Nakhtmin and another young doctor called Weni to their table, giving their talk a new direction. Nakhtmin reiterated the exam and soon a lively discussion of symptoms and diagnoses unfolded. Naturally the vizier’s sons had nothing to contribute.

After a while Neferib complained, “There’s nothing going on here anymore. Let’s go to the harbor and party on. I know a drinking hole that’s open all night.”

Leave the celebration? Indecisive, Hori turned around and swept his gaze over the meadow. The remaining guests busied themselves with the dancers. At first glance, he couldn’t make out Sitamun. Had she retired? Looked like it. Relieved because she spared him and others further embarrassment, he faced Neferib sitting at the table’s opposite side, which allowed him an unobstructed view of the scene in twilight. Rage and hatred distorted his features. Hori checked the clearing again. This time he spotted Sitamun between Shepses and another young man, and his eyes almost popped out. Shepses lay on his back, while his mother rode him like before, but the second man… Fascinated against his will by the strange view, Hori watched as the guy shoved his cock into Sitamun’s anus. Until now he’d had no idea this orifice could be used for sexual intercourse. His medical mind analyzed the implications. Would the man’s semen work like an enema? He giggled.

A rough hand grabbed his arm and pulled him off the chair. “Isn’t it a view for the gods when my noble mother gets stuffed like a goose?”

Hori averted his gaze. Obviously Neferib didn’t appreciate that he and others witnessed the scene. Best to distract the brothers so they wouldn’t have to keep watching and listening to their mother, while she acted like a whore. He couldn’t tell which of the brothers he pitied most. The act of love-making honored the gods—in theory. What he’d experienced tonight, though, was rather a perversion of love. Pharaohs married their sisters to transfer the royal blood line to their sons and daughters, but this—mother and son—was something different. The openly committed adultery alone was unheard of! Hori recalled the fairy tale of the two brothers. The one who was cheated fed his unfaithful wife to the dogs.

What would happen if the family of the highest official of the Two Lands were shattered by such a scandal? He didn’t want to imagine. Even worse how noble Sitamun used and abused her middle son. Did Shepses enjoy the special attentions of his mother or was he only a reluctant toy for her to satisfy her needs? A new question popped up in his heart. Was his mother’s behavior the reason for Hotep’s stutter?

With feigned nonchalance he said, “So what? Now, how about that den of thieves at the harbor?” He linked arms with Neferib and Weni. A short while later, the five of them staggered through the nighttime streets of Itj-tawy, laughing and joking.

As soon as they entered the tavern Golden Ibis, Hori found himself in a different world. No breeze dispersed the stench of stale beer, vomit and rancid fat mixed with the odor of sweat and foul breath. Sooting torches mounted to the walls only offered dim lighting. The air in the hot room was stifling. A few late patrons sucked their beer through straws so they didn’t have to swallow the dregs of grain. The innkeeper, a portly baldhead in a blotchy apron, lifted his head. A sleazy smile pushed up his fat cheeks and narrowed his eyes to slits.

Obviously, he recognized a fine shendyt right away.

The fat man squeezed between the rows of seats and welcomed them with many bows and even more words. He led them to a table and, with a swipe of his forearm, cleared the surface of rubble.

“Daughter,” he shouted over the heads of his guests. “Bring these noblemen our best beer!”

After a short while, a weedy young girl—almost a child still and close to collapsing under the weight—carried over a pitcher and mugs. Neferib stared at the blossoming breasts of the girl, barely covered by her threadbare dress.

As soon as they’d downed the beer the next pitcher stood before them. Hori restrained himself but felt the beer getting to his head anyway. The brothers quaffed the frothy drink with greed. No surprise there. The two had much to wash from their minds. Nakhtmin’s eyes turned glassy, and his head sank onto the table.

When the innkeeper’s daughter brought the third round, Neferib dragged her onto his lap. The young wench writhed playfully at first. She had to be used to cheeky patrons groping her. When Neferib didn’t let go, she struggled against him but the nobleman held her tight.

“Let me go!” she called. Hori noticed the pleading in her cry.

Neferib laughed hard. “Little slut, I’ll fuck you harder than your fat father ever did.”

The scorn in Neferib’s voice startled Hori. He looked around, but couldn’t see the innkeeper although the man must have realized what was going on here. Hori turned back to Neferib, whose fingers had pushed up the girl’s dress. With horror-struck eyes, she looked straight into Hori’s heart. Too much! He couldn’t take it. This guy simply took what he wanted. Unchecked rage at the whole depraved family seized Hori. He jumped up but had to grab the table’s edge. The room spun.

“L-let her go, N-neferib,” he slurred and thought of Hotep’s stutter. He laughed. I’m drunk.

The sharp scream of the girl sobered him fast. Neferib had forced her thighs wide enough apart to penetrate her with his fingers. She bled, had still been untouched! Neferib had no right to force himself on her. Hori lunged at the vizier’s son and pulled him around.

The attack surprised Neferib. He swung his right. The girl seized her chance, slid under the table and into safety.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Neferib yelled. “She’s mine!” He attacked.

Hori blocked the poorly aimed blows without difficulty, but he too had drunk too much. Neferib punched him in the stomach. The pain took away his breath. He curled up like a hedgehog. More blows rained down on him. Shouts cheered on the fighters. From the corner of his eye, Hori spotted the innkeeper’s stout calves. Why didn’t he intervene? All his furniture might break in a bar brawl. Hori struggled to his feet and shoved Neferib. Stumbling, arms flailing, the guy tripped over the legs of a toppled stool. All movement seemed to slow. Neferib’s wig slid from his head, while he fell. In the silence not even a gasp could be heard.

Then the ugly noise of Neferib’s neck hitting the corner of a table with uncanny precision. His muscles slacked immediately as he slumped to the ground. Slowly, blood pooled around his head. Hori’s medical mind told him with ruthless clarity what his heart refused to accept: Neferib died instantly.

The surrounding patrons stared in silence. Hotep ran to his brother, clutched his head and howled. In accusation, he lifted a blood-smeared hand. “Gr-rab hi-im! He k-killed m-my b-b-brother!”

Hori stood with drooping shoulders and limp arms. This couldn’t be real, couldn’t be happening to him. He must have watched somebody else do it, someone he didn’t know. In a dream-like state, he let them drag him out into the cold, dark night. Without a will of his own, he stumbled along between his two captors and only came to his senses when the men pounded on the gate of the pharaoh’s lawmen. Hori feared what lay ahead once the Medjay had him in their custody. Stories flashed in his frightened heart—of beatings with batons that broke the skin or cruel executions and damnation to perpetual oblivion, which awaited those without a grave for eternity.

“Open up!” the trailing crowd screamed. “We’ve got a murderer!”

“No,” Hori mumbled. “That’s not true.” But deep inside, he sensed the validity of their verdict. He, who only wanted to help other people, had killed a human being!