City of the Dead (10 page)

A laborer nearby looked at me and I avoided his eyes, not wanting to appear in need of conversation. My own inner silence seemed to echo with hollowness in the midst of the great drone of laughter and conversation.

Finally the man beside me caught my eye and spoke. “You honor us, Grand Vizier, with your presence here. I hope our revelry does not displease you.”

I shook my head. “I am waiting for someone.”

“Can I be of assistance?”

“Do you know Neferet, daughter of Senosiris, Overseer of Constructions?”

His face opened into a great smile. “Of course. She is a fine lady.” He scanned the room, then pointed. “And she has found you.”

I raised my eyes and found Neferet crossing through the hall toward me. She stopped several times along the way, speaking to and laughing with men who called to her. I could not hear the words spoken, but it was clear that they did not treat her as the other serving women. One would have thought her twice her
years, from the way the men reached for her as though seeking her blessing.

Finally she reached my side. She smiled down at me but said nothing.

I stood and cleared my throat. I forgot why I had come.

Her smile widened at my silence. “My father tells me that you are searching for me.”

“Yes.”

“Shall we sit?” she said.

“Yes.”

I allowed her to find a spot on the floor first, then lowered myself beside her. I offered her my cup, but she shook her head.

The dining hall began to empty, and Neferet shifted so that her full attention was on me. I noted her dress, a different one than last I’d seen, but also sewn with red threads and beads attached.

She followed my look and smiled. “I know. I can never seem to be content with simply white.”

“I like it.”

She laughed.

“Is that funny?”

Neferet shook her head. “Only the serious way in which you said it, as though you were approving the way a stone was dressed at the quarry.”

“I am afraid I have more experience with dressing stones than women.” The words spilled out, then I felt myself redden. I turned away.

Neferet laughed again and moved closer to me on the floor. “Why are you here, Grand Vizier?”

Why indeed?

“The old man in the artists’ section, he said that the Great Wife came to the village often. He said I should speak to the People of the One. And then he pointed to you.”

“And why are you asking about the Great Wife?”

“Because I—I cared about her. And I want to find the man who sent her ka to the west.”

The dining hall had grown quiet, and my words echoed farther than I would have liked.

Neferet’s eyes never left my face, but she was quiet. I fought the flush that I felt climbing again.

“She was very important to you.”

“Yes.” I swigged the remainder of my beer.

“For a long time.”

“Yes.”

“My heart aches for your loss,” she said, and I believed her. “How is your father, Hemi?”

“Not well. He is in his last days. But he has lived a good life.” Only after I answered did I notice that she had used my little name, not my title or formal name.

“A life well-lived will be missed all the more,” she said and reached for my hand.

“You like to touch people, don’t you?”

She smiled her wide, happy smile but pulled away. “I am sorry.”

I didn’t mean you should stop.

I forced the conversation back to Merit. “What do you know about the People of the One? And what connection do they have to the Great Wife? Do you think one of them may have been involved in her death?”

“You ask more questions than I have answers, Hemi. But I do know that the queen came to the village several times.”

“Dressed as a common woman?”

Neferet ran a hand over her own clothing. “Dressed as one of us, yes.”

I ground my teeth. I could not seem to say the right thing. “I did not mean—”

She held up a hand. “I feel no shame in my status, Hemi. Some women are born to be queens, some are not.”

“You would make a beautiful queen.” I rubbed the back of my neck and looked away.

“Thank you.”

A moment of silence left me wanting to run from the hall like a hunted antelope. No, nothing so graceful. Perhaps a hippo.

“Do you know why she came?” I said. “Did she meet with these rebels?”

“Rebels? Who has called them rebels?”

“What would you call them? They reject the sacred truths of Egypt to worship a foreign god without a name.” My voice held a disdain that echoed Khufu’s, though I was not so offended as I sounded.

“Have you ever wondered if the sacred truths are really true, Hemi?”

The hall was empty now, save the two of us. I studied the far wall before I answered. “I believe in justice. In divine order. In the existence of ma’at, running through all things.”

“Justice. Yes. And what about after death?”

“Justice, still. The weighing of the heart to see if it is pure and can enter eternity.”

“What will happen when your heart is weighed, Hemi?” Her words were soft but intensely spoken.

The flutter of a warning echoed through me, like a whispered secret in a cavernous temple. My heart pounded with a desire to confess the truth to her. “I do not know,” I admitted. “I have tried—tried to be—I do not know.”

“I think perhaps you do. That we all do. But you are afraid to face the truth.”

I placed my cup on the floor and twisted my fingers together in my lap. “I am not a pure man. I know that. I do not see how my heart could pass the test.”

She leaned toward me. “Nor could any. True justice leaves us all without hope.”

“Are you one of them, Neferet?” I lifted my eyes to hers. “The People of the One?”

She smiled, a knowing, patient smile like that of a tutor watching a student slowly learn. “Yes.”

“I must know about the Great Wife. Please.”

She placed both her hands on mine and whispered one word. “Come.”

We twisted through the darkening streets, Neferet leading me like a child. I kept my head down, preferring not to be seen. Lamps flickered to life inside homes we passed as the sun dropped below the wall that hemmed the city. The streets emptied of people, now safe inside their homes, tending to their families. The night seemed under a spell of the gods, silent and warm and full of mystery.

We walked for some time, until Neferet drew up short in front of a modest home flanked by others more prestigious, and faced me. She stepped close, until her head nearly touched my chin, and looked up.

“I feel in my heart that I can trust you,” she said. “But I need you to tell me so.” I looked over her head at the house. She touched my arm. “No, you must look at me when you speak.”

I ran my gaze over her face, her eyes, her lips, unsmiling now.

“I would not betray you, Neferet.”

Her slow smile was my reward. She took my hand and led me farther still, to the grand home next door. We passed into the home without being greeted, but once we were in the inner courtyard a
servant stepped from the shadows. He was young, perhaps less than twenty Inundations, but his eyes were wary.

Neferet greeted the servant with a kiss to the cheek, but the man’s attention was on me.

“I have brought a guest.” Neferet held out a hand to me.

“There will be many questions,” he said.

Neferet nodded, then pulled me through the courtyard, to a chamber at the back of the house.

I expected to find a small group of the rebellious sect huddled in the shadows and was surprised to find the room empty. Perhaps word of my inquiries had gotten out and no one had come.

Neferet crossed the room purposefully, to the opposite wall. She turned and beckoned to me where I stood by the entrance to the room. And then the far wall became a door, and I realized that it had been cleverly plastered with mud-brick to conceal its purpose. Neferet swung the door open and stepped into the darkness.

With a flicker of doubt at the wisdom of my actions, I crossed the room and passed through the doorway.

I was unprepared.

Three steps down, a chamber larger than the house above yawned before me, lit by dozens of oil lamps and filled with more people than I could count, talking and laughing like beloved family members.

My entrance was like a jug of water poured on a fire. The conversation sputtered and died nearby, and the hush spread outward until the entire room had fallen silent and watchful.

Neferet lifted her chin and smiled at the upturned faces. “He does not come to accuse or control,” she said. “He has doubts, as we all once had. He seeks truth. And he may be trusted. Welcome the grand vizier, my friends. Welcome him as you would welcome me.”

I smiled my gratitude at Neferet, then breathed deeply and faced the crowd. Their faces did not reflect the welcome she spoke of, however. A mistrust, fear, hung over the room.

Neferet touched my elbow and led me down the steps, into their midst. The people cleared a path and I walked with Neferet to the front of the chamber, where she bade me sit beside her on a stone bench. The others followed her lead and found their seats, most on benches scattered throughout the room. There were not benches to accommodate them all, so some sat on the floor while others stood at the walls.

“Perhaps it would be best,” Neferet said, “if you did not stare at them just yet.”

I turned and faced the front of the room.

Behind me, a quiet voice hummed softly. The melody was picked up by others, both men and women, then words were added. I stared at my hands. I had never heard men and women sing together.

But the strangeness was soon forgotten as I felt myself woven into the heart of their song, sung smooth and low, with words of their god and his love for them. Of his justice and his mercy. Of his provision and grace. The room swelled with the sweetness of the music, and my throat tightened unexplainably. And then the music ended, and someone spoke from the back of the room. After him, another. And another.

I listened in fascination.

One true god. Only one.

A creator god. One who still watched over the affairs of men.

They spoke of the world destroyed by flood because man refused to be ruled by this god, of a single family preserved by the love of this god. Of man’s turning again to self-rule and being
dispersed across the earth, their common language splintered into fragments.

And they spoke of one yet to come. Of him, I understood little and wished for clarity.

When it seemed the last of them had spoken, the singing began again. Some of it was familiar now, and I found myself wanting to join them. The last lovely note lifted above our heads and ceased, and it hung there in the air like a low fruit I could pluck and enjoy if I chose.

My eyes were still closed when Neferet touched my arm. I faced her and knew that those eyes were reading every thought in my heart.

She smiled. “Come and ask your questions now. Ask them about the Great Wife.”

I stood and approached a cluster of men and women nearby. Neferet introduced them as though I were a new member of their sect. I focused on the names to remember them.

“The grand vizier has questions about the queen,” she said and nodded to me.

I lifted my shoulders. “Neferet tells me that she was known here. I am trying to find the one who killed her, to bring him to justice. Do any of you know why she disguised herself and came to the village? Was it to meet you here?”

A thin man, Hanif, whom I believed was a stonemason in the quarry, glanced at his wife, Layla, then answered with uncertain hesitation. “At first she did not come here to meet with us. Some of us saw her a number of times, entering and coming out of the small temple of Horus close by here, always in the early morning hours. We didn’t understand why she would come out here to
worship.” His attention shifted to his wife again, and she picked up the story.

“I finally approached her, with a friend. We asked if we could serve her in some way.” She leaned her ample body against her husband, who embraced her with one arm.

I waited for more in silence.

“She seemed surprised that we recognized her.” The woman smiled, a wide, toothy smile that crinkled the corners of her bright eyes. “She believed her peasant garb had concealed her identity, but she was so lovely.”

Yes, she was
. “Did she tell you why she was in the temple?”

“We spoke to her several times after that, and each time we would speak of the gods.” The woman broke off and clasped her hands in front of her.

Neferet intervened. “He can be trusted, Layla. I am certain of it. Please tell him what you know.”

Layla sighed. “She had many questions and soon realized that our answers were not those of the priests of On or of Memphis. She was curious about our ways. After a while, we invited her to join us here.”

Neferet said to me, “It was a dangerous thing to do, but we all agreed. It was too important. We believed that perhaps God had given us this opportunity to make a change in Egypt. If he were calling the Great Wife to himself, there was a chance to have great impact.”

“And she came to these … meetings?”

“Yes,” Layla said. “Over a period of some weeks. She asked many more questions. And then—”

“Yes?”

Layla appeared unwilling to go further. Her husband shrugged, as though unable to determine the wisdom of continuing.

Neferet alone spoke, in the tone of a declaration. “She renounced the false gods of Egypt and claimed the One True God as her own.” Neferet’s words poured out with the rush of one who has committed to a course of action and won’t be turned back. “The Great Wife put her faith in the One to Come to reconcile her to God.”

“She became one of you?” I said, circling the group with my eyes. More had joined us as we talked, and we were now the center of the room’s attention.

Layla reached out and squeezed my arm. “She became one of God’s.”

People of the One.

I thanked them all and reassured them that I had no desire to bring trouble upon them. “But none of you know what brought her to the village at first? Or who may have had reason to kill her?”

My question was met with silence and shaking heads.

I offered my thanks again, and the group moved away.

“It grows late,” I said to Neferet. “I should be departing.”

She smiled. “It is very late. And not safe to travel across the desert. Come,” she said. “Come and stay the night with me.”

* * *

Once more I followed Neferet through the streets, this time certain that I had taken leave of my senses.

I had crossed the desert at night in the past. It was true that there were dangers, but none so far beyond me that a stay in the
village was necessary. So why the ridiculous decision to say yes to Neferet’s invitation?

At the house we found Sen lounging in the leafy darkness of the courtyard, with one flaming torch throwing dancing shadows. He started, then stood in surprise.

“Look what I have found, lost and wandering the streets, Father.” Sen and I both stared at Neferet, and she threw back her head and laughed. “You both look as though you don’t know whether to scold me or check me for fever.”

Sen bowed. “I am honored to have you in my home again, Grand Vizier.”

I did not miss the slight emphasis on the word
again
.

Neferet grew serious. “Will you bring a chair for the vizier, Father? He is going to stay the night.”

“Is he?” Sen’s eyebrows arched above his dark eyes.

Neferet gave her father a little push. “Yes.”

Sen disappeared inside, and Neferet smiled. “I will bring wine and meat,” she said, “and prepare a place for you to sleep. Please, rest here until all is ready.”

“Thank you, Neferet.”

Sen returned, placed a chair near his own, and motioned to it. He returned to his own chair, and Neferet came and kissed the top of his head. “We missed you this evening, Father.”

Sen’s sharp eyes flicked toward me and then Neferet.

“You didn’t—”

“The grand vizier was our guest. You must ask him what he thought of the meeting.”

She left the courtyard and I sat on the edge of the chair, then forced myself to lean against the back.

“So Neferet has told you our secret.”

“You are part of them too? The People of the One?”

Sen braced his arm across the back of his chair. “Neferet and I trace our bloodline directly back to Shem, who was saved from the Great Flood.”

“I have heard of the flood since childhood but always believed it was simply an Inundation greater than any ever seen.”

Sen laughed. “That it was. So great it covered the world. The people in the east will tell you that the waters covered all that they know there.”

“You have spoken to people east of Sinai?”

“That is where our people come from. And Shem lives there still. You could travel there and hear from his own lips how he lived upon the great boat for one year, until the land appeared again.” Sen shifted in his seat. “You must think us all quite blasphemous,” he said. “Perhaps you no longer wish me to serve as overseer of—”

I stopped him with an upraised hand. “I have too many questions of my own about the gods to judge you for the answers you claim to have found. I came here for another reason.”

The sound of Neferet singing drifted from the kitchen, and I glanced toward the entrance to the courtyard.

Sen’s lips narrowed to a thin line. “I suspect you did.” He leaned forward, his bulky forearms on his knees. “You may be the grand vizier, but she is still my daughter. Take care, my lord.”

I swallowed. “You mistake my intention. I came to the village today to ask questions about the Great Wife. My questions led me to the People of the One, and Neferet allowed me to meet them, to learn more. And then it was late. Too late to cross the desert to the royal estate …” My reasons trailed off, as I saw that Sen was smiling, with a knowing sort of dismissal. I sat back in my chair,
unwilling to make further excuses, even to myself. “I have great respect for your daughter, Sen.”

The older man seemed to relax. “Good. Now let us enjoy the night.”

It was a night to enjoy. The torchlight flickered across Neferet’s wall murals and seemed to bring the flowers and creatures to life. Beside us, in the center of the courtyard where a small pond had been dug and lotus flowers cultivated, a small frog croaked, as if to join the conversation. The fragrance of night flowers hung in the air, and behind it all, was the sound of Neferet singing.

The tension of the day seemed to drain from me, and I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. A strange feeling of safety enveloped me as the garden embraced my senses. When Neferet returned with bowls of beef and cups of wine, I felt as though this were my own home. Neferet passed food and wine to her father, then patted his shoulder, and a vision flashed before me, of children playing in the courtyard, of Sen as their grandfather.

She disappeared once more to prepare my bed, and the overseer and I ate our meal in companionable silence.

When we had set our cups and bowls aside, I asked, “Are you satisfied with your new position, Sen?”

Sen wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and leaned back in his chair. “The men require constant supervision, but that is unchanged from my earlier role, so I do not mind it. I enjoy seeing the project from a different perspective, seeing the bigger goals.”

“You have done well filling Mentu’s role. There has been little interruption to the time line.”

Sen nodded his thanks. “I only wish that the circumstances were different. He was a good man. The men loved him. He never
lorded his position over them. Even used our small temple here to worship.”

I cocked my head. “He worshiped here? In the temple of Horus? Near the home where the People of the One meet?”

“Yes, I saw him often in the early mornings, when no one else was about the temple.

My jaw suddenly tensed and I tried to loosen it with my fingertips.

Sen said, “I suppose he liked to spend time there alone, before the priests would come.”