City of the Dead (25 page)

I navigated the small craft through the wide canal toward the river. In the darkness the canal seemed to empty into the night sky at the horizon, and I thought of tomb paintings I had seen depicting the deceased sailing the sky to join the stars.

I kept the boat close to the bank to avoid the stronger current that would make it more difficult to steer. The pole was not long enough to serve me well in deep water. The oars splashed the water in rhythm, occasionally thwacking reeds that jutted out from a sandbank.

The night wore on, and my arms grew weary with the unaccustomed motion. I paddled without thought now, sometimes with my eyes closed, focused on the steady splash of the oars and the wind in my face, pushing into the blackness as though traveling through the underworld.

I was jolted from my reverie by the sudden scrape and halt of the boat.

A sandbank had snagged its bottom.

I left the oars and stood in the bow, pole in hand. I was still ten cubits from the riverbank, but under me the floor of the river had risen to capture the boat. The pole was rough but solid in my hand, like my own staff, and I used it to push the boat from the
sand. The action revived me somewhat, and I returned to the oars with renewed energy.

To my right, the night was already fading. I had perhaps an hour until dawn. It was difficult to say how far I had to travel. The last time I had traveled to the marsh for hunting, it had been in the cabin of Pharaoh’s barque, taking my ease. This journey seemed to last an eternity by comparison.

At last, when I feared my shoulders and back could bear no more, I saw streams and tributaries running off from the river on both sides. The sun crested the eastern horizon, shooting flames of gold along the surface of the river. I followed the fiery path, casting about in my memory for the best way to reach the place I had avoided for so many years.

I was soon deep into the marshy reeds and gave up my oars to stand in the bow and navigate the shallow waters with the pole.

The early morning sounds of the swamp assailed me, a slithering and splashing sound of creatures awakening and finding their way to food and water. Even the wind seemed to be rising, and a hint of coolness traced its way across my back. The familiar smell of wet earth and decay resurrected memories I had thought better left dead.

With an awareness of time running out, the sun seemed to climb the sky at double speed now. I poled through streams and pools, around tangled beds of reeds and over floating gardens of lotus, growing frantic that I would not be able to find the place where we had picnicked and hunted the day that Amunet had died. For it was here, I knew, that Rashidi had taken Neferet. To punish me as he felt he had been punished.

Would I arrive only to find he had already killed her and left her body to the marsh? As if to mock me, a large crocodile lifted
its head from the bank and surveyed me with slow, watchful eyes. I passed by the greenish-brown monster and pushed farther into the labyrinth of water and reeds. I yearned once more for the open sky and sand of the pyramid plateau, to be free at last of the twisted years of secrets and lies that had held us all captive.

I passed a strangely gnarled sycamore-fig and cursed. I had seen that tree some minutes earlier. I was traveling in circles.

Hold on, Neferet. Be strong. I am coming.

If only I had not hidden like a beaten dog in the quarry yesterday. Had I gone immediately to say good-bye to Neferet, to find Rashidi and finish this, she would be at home this morning, painting her walls, laughing and singing.

I jammed the pole into the muck once more and thrust myself and the boat further toward the unknown.

The marsh opened before me into a wide grassy plain, and I knew that I had found the place where we had taken our rest while hunting. How Rashidi would have known this, I did not know. Had he ever traveled and hunted with us? I did not believe so. A chill ran up my spine to think that perhaps he had watched us from the reeds, his presence unknown to us.

I levered my small boat to the side of the stream and jammed the prow into the bank. I returned the pole to its shaft and forced it down into the mud to secure the boat. The sluggish current here was not much of a threat.

I alighted and my feet sank into the marsh, squishing mud between my sandaled toes. I shook each foot in the water and climbed onto the bank.

I crested onto the grass and looked across the familiar plain of my youth.

On the other side, still twenty cubits from me, Rashidi rose to his feet and pulled Neferet up to stand beside him.

We stood there, opposite each other on the grass, without speaking. I looked to Neferet to see if she was hurt.

She was angry. I could see it from here, in the set of her mouth and the stiffness of her posture.

“You received my message,” Rashidi called. “And your guilt has led you to the right place.”

“Not guilt, Rashidi. Justice.”

The priest smiled, and I ventured closer.

“Yes, justice. Even better.” He frowned. “Come no closer, Hemiunu. Unless you wish to see your woman thrown to the crocodiles right now.”

I saw that he had a knife, perhaps the very one he had been sharpening in the temple, pressed to Neferet’s side. I tried to give her strength with my eyes. She held my gaze and gave a slight nod, as if to signify that she was well.

“What do you want from me, Rashidi?”

The priest pursed his lips. “I want you to die for the evil you have committed.”

“I have committed no evil.”

Even as I said the words, they sounded foolish to me. Leaving Amunet in the marsh. Remaining silent all these years. These acts were evil enough to condemn me when my heart was weighed. And they were only the beginning of a life lived in selfishness and hard-heartedness.

Rashidi laughed and pulled Neferet closer. “Perhaps you deceive her, Grand Vizier. But you do not deceive me.”

“I should not have kept silent, Rashidi. I know that now. Amunet deserved better than that. I regret the secrets. But must more people die because of one’s death?”

“Secrets? You think that’s what this is about, Hemiunu?” Rashidi’s voice rose, and I took several slow steps closer.

“Lies and deception must come to light, it is true,” he said. “But today I avenge her very death, not the lies that followed. Today you will pay for what you did to Amunet. And you will pay in ways you never expected.”

I moved again and Rashidi twisted Neferet away from me.

“Not yet, Hemiunu. Not yet. First, we eat.”

Eat?
“What are you talking about, Rashidi?”

The priest indicated a parcel that lay on the grass nearby. “Is that not what you did? You and the other royal whelps? Took your meal here, lay about with no cares at all, then into the marsh for the hunt? So that is what we will do.”

I looked from the priest to Neferet. I was close enough now to see the way her eyes went dark.

“Open it,” Rashidi said.

I went to the parcel and untied it. Inside was a packet of dried fish and some hard bread. Rashidi lowered himself to the ground, taking Neferet with him. He held her against himself as though he loved her, and my stomach twisted.

“Sit down,” he said.

I sat on the grass. The sheathed knife at my belt bit into my skin and reassured me.

“Eat.”

“You have been misled, Rashidi, if you think that I killed Amunet.”

“Eat!” His voice filled the reedy enclosure.

I ripped at the salted fish with my teeth and chewed like an angry jackal.

It was very like that day, sitting here with food and sun with the green smell of the marsh around us. A flock of birds lifted behind Rashidi and Neferet. Their calls took me back.

“This is madness, Rashidi. You must stop now, before another is harmed.”

“Another?” He squeezed Neferet to him. “Do you mean your peasant woman?”

I sneered at him. “You speak to me about titles and birth? Is not all of this about your low birth? That you could not have Amunet?”

Rashidi’s upper lip twitched. “Do not forget I was educated at the palace just as you were.”

“Yes, out of pity. Given a place at the princes’ school only because you showed an aptitude with writing that would have been wasted in the fields. But it was not enough to have Amunet.”

Neferet watched me without blinking. Did she fear that I would make Rashidi angry enough to harm her? It was a dangerous game, but I had to take the upper hand.

“It was you and your friends who made it impossible,” he spat. “All of you who convinced her that I was worthless.”

“She had the eye of the prince of the blood. Why would she want a weasel of a priest in training?”

Rashidi jumped to his feet then wrapped his fingers around Neferet’s upper arm and dragged her upright.

“All these years,” he said. “All these years I believed that the prince—Khufu—was the one who killed her. I insisted back then that Sneferu hold his son responsible. He silenced me, then made me a priest of On to ensure I would remain so. I did my best to serve the gods and to forget.”

“You should have stayed in On.”

“How could I? There was no life for me there. You made certain of that, with your whisperings in Khufu’s ear. When I learned that you were also responsible for the death of Amunet, I could forget no longer.”

I threw the fish aside and closed the gap between us. “You are wrong, Rashidi. I did not kill Amunet. Someone has lied to you.”

He laughed. “Oh? Your own brother? Would he lie to accuse you?”

“Why would Ahmose say such a thing?”

“Because he could no longer contain his guilt. When I spoke to him about the king’s decision to move the center of worship, Ahmose confessed to me that it was in fact you who were responsible. The same man who murdered Amunet.”

“And so you decided to take your revenge?” I shifted my position, hoping Rashidi would not notice.

He wrapped an arm around the front of Neferet’s shoulders and pulled her against his chest, the knife at her throat now.

“You still have no idea what is happening here, Hemiunu.”

“Then tell me.”

“Yes, it was time for you to pay. Do you know what I am going to do, Hemi?”

I said nothing.

“I am going to slowly cut this woman open until you confess to me what you did to Amunet. Then I will end her pain quickly.” Rashidi recited his plan like it was an incantation, and all the light seemed to have gone out of his eyes. “When she is dead, I will take you out with me to the water’s edge, and you will watch me feed her to the crocodiles just as you once did to Amunet. When you have seen that she will not pass to the afterlife, then I shall kill you too.”

I ran toward the two of them, but Rashidi held the knife to Neferet’s throat and screamed, “Stop!”

I stopped.

“If you move again, Hemiunu, I will cut her throat open right now.” He wrapped a hand over her mouth.

I held up two hands, palms out. “Priest of the great god, Ra,” I said. “Think of the afterlife. Think of your own heart, weighed against the feather. You do not want to do this evil.”

“Tell me what you did to Amunet.”

The tip of his knife angled toward Neferet’s delicate throat, then traced a path along it. A thin red line chased the tip of the knife. Neferet’s eyes went wide as the pain reached her consciousness. I saw the blood drip down her graceful neck to caress the pounding hollow of her throat, then continue down to the edge of her white dress, like a grotesque distortion of the red embroidery she often stitched into her clothes. I waited for the faintness to rush through me. Instead, I felt only a hardening anger.

“Say it, Hemiunu. Say the words.” Rashidi’s voice had flattened. I wondered how many animals’ throats he had cut as priest. If he ever felt pity.

He would kill Neferet. I knew it. This was no idle threat, no trickery to bring me to a confession. He would kill her and I would never know what could have been. She could have saved me, I knew. She and her One God. Why had I not seen it before?

I still held my hands out to him. “What do you want to hear, Rashidi?”

“The truth.”

I think not.

“That you lured Amunet out here into the marsh. That you killed her here, then left her body to the water beasts to ensure that she would not join the gods.”

This was the truth Rashidi wanted. This was truth for him, but that did not make it true.

Neferet swayed on her feet. I thought of the first time I had seen her, swaying to her own music in her kitchen. Rashidi held her upright, his hand still gripping her mouth. I watched her eyes, the way they danced even now.

I could not rush at him, even with the knife at my belt. He would cut her deeply before I’d moved three steps. Her only chance was to get away from him, to give me more time.

I caught her attention with my own eyes. “I am sorry, Neferet,” I said softly, forcing them both to focus on the soothing cadence of my voice. “Sorry that I could not be the man you wanted. I am sorry that I will never dance with you.” My eyes bore into hers. “Even now,” I said. “I would like to see you dance again.”

She understood.

I brought my hand to my waist, slowly. Slowly. Then the slightest of nods to her.

In a movement so fluid, so graceful it seemed borne of the wind and the water, Neferet twisted away from the knife and Rashidi’s hand on her mouth, dipped her head through the crook of his arm, spun her body to the left, ducked under his swinging knife hand, and slammed her forearm against his, sending the knife spinning through the air. I admired all of this with part of my conscious mind, even the way her hair swung away as she spun. And I ran at Rashidi with my own knife in my fist and a cry of fury on my lips.

Rashidi reacted with the litheness of a panther. He grabbed Neferet and shoved her toward me.

I had no time to shift direction.

With horror, I felt my knife meet resistance, then slip into flesh.

Neferet fell against me, her breath warm on my neck.

I pulled her away, a desperate prayer seeping from me.

My knife had penetrated the fleshy part of her upper arm. She looked at it as though from a great distance, then slowly wrapped her fingers around the wound and stared up at me.

“Go,” she croaked. “Go and get the priest.”

With reluctance, I let her go.

The priest had disappeared into the reeds.

I heard the splash of something hitting the water but knew not whether it was man or beast.

Bloody knife still in my hand, I ran into the parted reeds.

The thought of Neferet’s eyes, the way the blood ran on her neck, fueled a rage in me like I had never known. I hacked at the reeds with my knife as I ran. Wished that Rashidi would appear so I could hack at him.

Perhaps I
am
a murderer at heart,
I thought. But I did not care. He had threatened to take her from me. He
had
taken Merit. And Mentu.
No more
.

I ran on.
No more
.

Rashidi’s flight through the marsh was simple to track. Broken reeds, crushed undergrowth, muddy footprints at the water’s edge. I pounded on, back the way I had poled through the marsh in my stolen boat.

It felt good to give chase, to have a focus for my hatred after all this time of chasing the wind. A face for the Scourge of Anubis at last.

Ahead more birds squawked and beat their way out of the reeds into the air. I thought the priest must have startled them out. But then a throw stick hurled through the sky and knocked one of the geese from its hurried flight.

Hunters nearby.

A renewed urgency hit me. I could not allow Rashidi to find another victim to use as a shield.

And then I saw him. The slight build, running ahead of me. His head and back glowed with sweat, and mud licked the back of his legs. He must have heard me. His head pivoted over his shoulder, and his eyes found mine.

It was a mistake. His feet faltered in the mud and growth. His frantic flight carried him forward, even as his feet lost purchase.

I was on him in an instant. I rolled him onto his back and straddled him, my knife at his throat.

“Finish it, then,” he said, his lips white. “Finish it here in the marsh, where it began. I died that day anyway.”

There was raw pain in his voice, even after all these years, and I saw for the first time how he had been a victim too. Egypt would withhold from him the woman he loved, would not give him justice for her death, would not even allow him the peace of the priestly life he had chosen.

My pity was ill-timed. Rashidi was not as resigned to his fate as I imagined. He must have sensed my faltering resolve.

His sinewy body twisted under me. He brought his forearms up hard to break my grip. The impact knocked the knife from my loosened fingers, and its point lodged in the mud at the water’s edge, a few cubits away.

Rashidi fought to reverse our positions, a strange laugh gurgling in his throat. “Your brother was right,” he said and shoved
my shoulder into the mud. “You are far too weak for the role you’ve been given.”

I saw him rise above me, knew he would go for the knife.

The many years of my brother’s enmity now hardened to a solid thing in my chest, turned my fists to stone, and ground away any pity I had left.

In a blur of hatred, we went at each other, until I again straddled the smaller man and gave vent to my wrath, pounding my knuckles against his face in one glorious strike after another.

The priest’s eyes blinked. Then fluttered. Then closed. Finally, my rage spent, I stopped and breathed.

We were alone in the marsh still. No hunters happened by.

There was no one to witness how this would end.

I pulled myself off the priest’s unconscious form, crawled to the edge of the water, and retrieved my knife. My chest heaved and my throat closed, as though I had drunk my fill of marsh water.