Death Comes As the End (16 page)

‘Do not let us talk of Nofret.’

‘No, better not perhaps. Kameni’s lucky as well as being good-looking, isn’t he? It was lucky for him, I mean, that Nofret died when she did. She could have made a lot of trouble for him. With your father. She wouldn’t have liked his marrying you–no, she wouldn’t have liked it at all. In fact, I think she would have found some way of stopping it. I’m quite sure she would.’

Renisenb looked at her with cold dislike.

‘There is always poison in your tongue, Henet. It stings like a scorpion. But you cannot make me unhappy.’

‘Well, that’s splendid, isn’t it? You must be very much in love. Oh, he’s a handsome young man is Kameni–and he knows how to sing a very pretty love song. He’ll always get what he wants, never fear. I admire him, I really do. He always seems so simple and straightforward.’

‘What are you trying to say, Henet?’

‘I’m just telling you that I admire Kameni. And I’m quite sure that he
is
simple and straightforward. It’s not put on. The whole thing is quite like one of those tales the storytellers in the Bazaars recite. The poor young scribe marrying the master’s daughter and sharing the inheritance with her and living happily ever afterwards. Wonderful what good luck a handsome young man always has.’

‘I am right,’ said Renisenb. ‘You do hate us.’

‘Now how can you say that, Renisenb, when you know how I’ve slaved for you all ever since your mother died?’

But there was still the evil triumph in Henet’s voice rather than the customary whine.

Renisenb looked down again at the jewel box and suddenly another certainty came into her mind.

‘It was
you
who put the gold lion necklace in this box. Don’t deny it, Henet. I know, I tell you.’

Henet’s sly triumph died. She looked suddenly frightened.

‘I couldn’t help it, Renisenb. I was afraid…’

‘What do you mean–afraid?’

Henet came a step nearer and lowered her voice.

‘
She
gave it to me–Nofret, I mean. Oh, some time before she died. She gave me one or two–presents. Nofret was generous, you know. Oh yes, she was always generous.’

‘I daresay she paid you well.’

‘That’s not a nice way of putting it, Renisenb. But I’m telling you all about it. She gave me the gold lion necklace and an amethyst clasp and one or two other things. And then, when that boy came out with his story of having seen a woman with that necklace on–well, I was afraid. I thought maybe they’d think that it was
I
who poisoned Yahmose’s wine. So I put the necklace in the box.’

‘Is that the truth, Henet? Do you ever speak the truth?’

‘I swear it’s the truth, Renisenb. I was afraid…’

Renisenb looked at her curiously. ‘You’re shaking, Henet. You look as though you were afraid now.’

‘Yes, I am afraid…I’ve reason to be.’

‘Why? Tell me.’

Henet licked her thin lips. She glanced sideways, behind her. Her eyes came back like a hunted animal’s.

‘Tell me,’ said Renisenb.

Henet shook her head. She said in an uncertain voice:

‘There’s nothing to tell.’

‘You know too much, Henet. You’ve always known too much. You’ve enjoyed it, but now it’s dangerous. That’s it, isn’t it?’

Henet shook her head again. Then she laughed maliciously.

‘You wait, Renisenb. One day I shall hold the whip in this house–and crack it. Wait and see.’

Renisenb drew herself up. ‘You will not harm
me
, Henet. My mother will not let you harm me.’

Henet’s face changed–the eyes burned.

‘I hated your mother,’ she said. ‘I always hated her…And you who have her eyes–and her voice–her beauty and her arrogance–I hate
you
, Renisenb.’

Renisenb laughed. ‘And at last–I’ve made you say it!’

IV

Old Esa limped wearily into her room.

She was perplexed and very weary. Age, she realized, was at last taking toll of her. So far she had acknowledged her weariness of body, but had been conscious of no weariness of mind. But now she had to admit that the strain of remaining mentally alert was taxing her bodily resources.

If she knew now, as she believed she did, from what quarter danger impended–yet that knowledge permitted of no mental relaxation. Instead she had to be more than ever on her guard since she had deliberately drawn attention to herself. Proof–proof–she must get proof…But how?

It was there, she realized, that her age told against her. She was too tired to improvise–to make the mental creative effort. All she was capable of was defence–to remain alert, watchful, guarding herself.

For the killer–she had no illusions about that–would be quite ready to kill again.

Well, she had no intention of being the next victim. Poison, she felt sure, was the vehicle that would be employed. Violence was not conceivable since she was never alone, but was always surrounded by servants. So it would be poison. Well, she could counter that. Renisenb should cook her food and bring it to her.
She had a wine stand and jar brought to her room and after a slave had tasted it, she waited twenty-four hours to make sure that no evil results followed. She made Renisenb share her food and her wine–although she had no fear for Renisenb–yet. It might be that there was no fear for Renisenb–ever. But of that one could not be sure.

Between whiles she sat motionless, driving her weary brain to devise means of proving the truth or watching her little maid starching and pleating her linen dresses, or re-stringing necklaces and bracelets. This evening she was very weary. She had joined Imhotep at his request to discuss the question of Renisenb’s marriage before he himself spoke to his daughter.

Imhotep, shrunken and fretful, was a shadow of his former self. His manner had lost its pomposity and assurance. He leaned now on his mother’s indomitable will and determination.

As for Esa, she had been fearful–very fearful–of saying the wrong thing. Lives might hang on an injudicious word.

Yes, she said at last, the idea of marriage was wise. And there was no time to go far afield for a husband amongst more important members of the family clan. After all, the female line was the important one–her husband would be only the administrator of
the inheritance that came to Renisenb and Renisenb’s children.

So it came to a question of Hori–a man of integrity, of old and long-approved friendship, the son of a small land-owner whose estate had adjoined their own, or young Kameni with his claims of cousinship.

Esa had weighed the matter carefully before speaking. A false word now–and disaster might result.

Then she had made her answer, stressing it with the force of her indomitable personality. Kameni, she said, was undoubtedly the husband for Renisenb. Their declarations and the necessary attendant festivities–much curtailed owing to the recent bereavements–might take place in a week’s time. That is, if Renisenb was willing. Kameni was a fine young man–together they would raise strong children. Moreover the two of them loved one another.

Well, Esa thought, she had cast her die. The thing would be pegged out now on the gaming board. It was out of her hands. She had done what she thought expedient. If it was hazardous–well, Esa liked a match at the gaming board quite as well as Ipy had done. Life was not a matter of safety–it must be hazarded to win the game.

She looked suspiciously round her room when she returned to it. Particularly she examined the big wine
jar. It was covered over and sealed as she had left it. She always sealed it when she left the room and the seal hung safely round her neck.

Yes–she was taking no risks of that kind. Esa chuckled with malicious satisfaction. Not so easy to kill an old woman. Old women knew the value of life–and knew most of the tricks too. Tomorrow–She called her little maid.

‘Where is Hori? Do you know?’

The girl replied that she thought Hori was up at the Tomb in the rock chamber.

Esa nodded satisfaction.

‘Go up to him there. Tell him that tomorrow morning, when Imhotep and Yahmose are out on the cultivation, taking Kameni with them for the counting, and when Kait is at the lake with the children, he is to come to me here. Have you understood that? Repeat it.’

The little maid did so, and Esa sent her off.

Yes, her plan was satisfactory. The consultation with Hori would be quite private since she would send Henet on an errand to the weaving sheds. She would warn Hori of what was to come and they could speak freely together.

When the black girl returned with the message that Hori would do as she said, Esa gave a sigh of relief.

Now, these things settled, her weariness spread over
her like a flood. She told the girl to bring the pot of sweet smelling ointment and massage her limbs.

The rhythm soothed her, and the unguent eased the aching of her bones.

She stretched herself out at last, her head on the wooden pillow, and slept–her fears for the moment allayed.

She woke much later with a strange sensation of coldness. Her feet, her hands, were numbed and dead…It was like a constriction stealing all over the body. She could feel it numbing her brain, paralysing her will, slowing down the beat of her heart.

She thought: ‘This is Death…’

A strange death–death unheralded, with no warning signs.

This, she thought, is how the old die…

And then a surer conviction came to her. This was
not
natural death! This was the Enemy stiking out of the darkness.

Poison…

But how? When? All she had eaten, all she had drunk–tested, secured–there had been no loophole of error.

Then how? When?

With her last feeble flickers of intelligence, Esa sought to penetrate the mystery. She must know–she
must
–before she died.

She felt the pressure increasing on her heart–the deadly coldness–the slow painful indrawing of her breath.

How had the enemy done this thing?

And suddenly, from the past, a fleeting memory came to aid her understanding. The shaven skin of a lamb–a lump of smelling grease–an experiment of her father’s–to show that some poisons could be absorbed by the skin. Wool fat–unguents made of wool fat. That was how the enemy had reached her. Her pot of sweet smelling unguent, so necessary to an Egyptian woman. The poison had been in that…

And tomorrow–Hori–he would not know–she could not tell him…It was too late.

In the morning a frightened little slave girl went running through the house crying out that her lady had died in her sleep.

Imhotep stood looking down on Esa’s body. His face was sorrowful, but not suspicious.

His mother, he said, had died naturally enough of old age.

‘She was old,’ he said. ‘Yes, she was old. It was doubtless time for her to go to Osiris, and all her troubles and sorrows have hastened the end. But it seems to have come peacefully enough. Thank Ra in his mercy that here is a death unaided by man or by evil spirit. There is no violence here. See how peaceful she looks.’

Renisenb wept and Yahmose comforted her. Henet went about sighing and shaking her head, and saying what a loss Esa would be and how devoted she, Henet, had always been to her. Kameni checked his singing and showed a proper mourning face.

Hori came and stood looking down at the dead woman. It was the hour of her summons to him. He wondered what, exactly, she had meant to say.

She had had something definite to tell him.

Now he would never know.

But he thought, perhaps, that he could guess…

II

‘Hori–was she killed?’

‘I think so, Renisenb.’

‘How?’

‘I do not know.’

‘But she was so careful.’ The girl’s voice was distressed and bewildered. ‘She was always on the watch. She took every precaution. Everything she ate and drank was proved and tested.’

‘I know, Renisenb. But all the same I think she was killed.’

‘And she was the wisest of us all–the cleverest! She was sure that no harm could befall her. Hori, it
must
be magic! Evil magic, the spell of an evil spirit.’

‘You believe that because it is the easiest thing to believe. People are like that. But Esa herself would not have believed it. If she knew–before she died,
and did not die in her sleep–she knew it was living person’s work.’

‘And she knew whose?’

‘Yes. She had shown her suspicion too openly. She became a danger to the enemy. The fact that she died proves that her suspicion was correct.’

‘And she told you–who it was?’

‘No,’ said Hori. ‘She did not tell me. She never mentioned a name. Nevertheless, her thought and my thought were, I am convinced, the same.’

‘Then you must tell
me
, Hori, so that I may be on my guard.’

‘No, Renisenb, I care too much for your safety to do that.’

‘Am I so safe?’

Hori’s face darkened. He said: ‘No, Renisenb, you are not safe. No one is safe. But you are much safer than if you were assured of the truth–for then you would become a definite menace to be removed at once whatever the risk.’

‘What about you, Hori?
You
know.’

He corrected her. ‘I
think
I know. But I have said nothing and shown nothing. Esa was unwise. She spoke out. She showed the direction in which her thoughts were tending. She should not have done that–I told her so afterwards.’

‘But you–Hori…If anything happens to you…’

She stopped. She was aware of Hori’s eyes looking into hers.

Grave, intent, seeing straight into her mind and heart…

He took her hands in his and held them lightly.

‘Do not fear for me, little Renisenb…All will be well.’

‘Yes, she thought, all will indeed be well if Hori says so. Strange, that feeling of content, of peace, of clear singing happiness…As lovely and as remote as the far distance seen from the Tomb–a distance in which there was no clamour of human demands and restrictions.

Suddenly, almost harshly, she heard herself saying:

‘I am to marry Kameni.’

Hori let her hands go–quietly and quite naturally.

‘I know, Renisenb.’

‘They–my father–they think it is the best thing.’

‘I know.’

He moved away.

The courtyard walls seemed to come nearer, the voices within the house and from the cornbins outside sounded louder and noisier.

Renisenb had only one thought in her mind: ‘Hori is going…’

She called to him timidly:

‘Hori, where are you going?’

‘Out to the fields with Yahmose. There is much work there to be done and recorded. The reaping is nearly finished.’

‘And Kameni?’

‘Kameni comes with us.’

Renisenb cried out: ‘I am afraid here. Yes, even in daylight with all the servants all round and Ra sailing across the Heavens, I am afraid.’

He came quickly back.

‘Do not be afraid, Renisenb. I swear to you that you need not be afraid. Not today.’

‘But after today?’

‘Today is enough to live through–and I swear to you you are not in danger today.’

Renisenb looked at him and frowned.

‘But we
are
in danger? Yahmose, my father, myself? It is not
I
who am threatened first…is that what you think?’

‘Try not to think about it, Renisenb. I am doing all I can, though it may appear to you that I am doing nothing.’

‘I see–’ Renisenb looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I see. It is to be Yahmose first. The enemy has tried twice with poison and failed. There is to be a third attempt. That is why you will be close beside him–to protect him.
And after that it will be the turn of my father and myself. Who is there who hates our family so much that–’

‘Hush. You would do well not to talk of these things. Trust me, Renisenb. Try and banish fear from your mind.’

Renisenb threw her head back. She faced him proudly.

‘I do trust you, Hori. You will not let me die…I love life very much and I do not want to leave it.’

‘You shall not leave it, Renisenb.’

‘Nor you either, Hori.’

‘Nor I either.’

They smiled at each other and then Hori went away to find Yahmose.

III

Renisenb sat back on her haunches watching Kait.

Kait was helping the children to model toys out of clay, using the water of the lake. Her fingers were busy kneading and shaping and her voice encouraged the two small serious boys at their task. Kait’s face was the same as usual, affectionate, plain, expressionless. The surrounding atmosphere of violent death and constant fear seemed to affect her not at all…

Hori had bidden Renisenb not to think, but with the best will in the world Renisenb could not obey. If Hori knew the enemy, if Esa had known the enemy, then there was no reason why she should not know the enemy too. She might be safer unknowing, but no human creature could be content to have it that way. She wanted to know.

And it must be very easy–very easy indeed. Her father, clearly, could not desire to kill his own children. So that left–who did it leave? It left, starkly and uncompromisingly, two people, Kait and Henet.

Women, both of them…

And surely with no reason for killing…

Yet Henet hated them all…Yes, undoubtedly Henet hated them. She had admitted hating Renisenb. So why should she not hate the others equally?

Renisenb tried to project herself into the dim, tortured recesses of Henet’s brain. Living here, all these years, working, protesting her devotion, lying, spying, making mischief…Coming here, long ago, as the poor relative of a great and beautiful lady. Seeing that lovely lady happy with husband and children. Repudiated by her own husband, her only child dead…Yes, that might be the way of it. Like a wound from a spear thrust that Renisenb had once seen. It had healed quickly over the surface, but beneath evil matters had festered and
raged and the arm had swollen and had gone hard to the touch. And then the physician had come and, with a suitable incantation, had plunged a small knife into the hard, swollen, distorted limb. It had been like the breaking down of an irrigation dyke. A great stream of evil smelling stuff had come welling out…

That, perhaps, was like Henet’s mind. Sorrow and injury smoothed over too quickly–and festering poison beneath, ever swelling in a great tide of hate and venom.

But did Henet hate Imhotep too? Surely not. For years she had fluttered round him, fawning on him, flattering him…He believed in her implicitly. Surely that devotion could not be wholly feigned?

And if she were devoted to him, could she deliberately inflict all this sorrow and loss upon him?

Ah, but suppose she hated him too–had always hated him. Had flattered him deliberately with a view to bringing out his weakness? Supposing Imhotep was the one she hated
most
? Then to a distorted, evil-ridden mind, what better pleasure could there be than this? To let him see his children die off one by one…

‘What is the matter, Renisenb?’ Kait was staring at her. ‘You look so strange.’

Renisenb stood up.

‘I feel as though I were going to vomit,’ she said.

In a sense it was true enough. The picture she had been conjuring up induced in her a strong feeling of nausea. Kait accepted the words at their face value.

‘You have eaten too many green dates–or perhaps the fish had turned.’

‘No, no, it is nothing I have eaten. It is the terrible thing we are living through.’

‘Oh, that.’

Kait’s disclaimer was so nonchalant that Renisenb stared at her.

‘But, Kait, are you not afraid?’

‘No, I do not think so.’ Kait considered. ‘If anything happens to Imhotep, the children will be protected by Hori. Hori is honest. He will guard their inheritance for them.’

‘Yahmose will do that.’

‘Yahmose will die, too.’

‘Kait, you say that so calmly. Do you not mind at all? I mean, that my father and Yahmose should die?’

Kait considered for a moment or two. Then she shrugged her shoulders.

‘We are two women together–let us be honest. Imhotep I have always considered tyrannical and unfair. He behaved outrageously in the matter of his concubine–letting himself be persuaded by her to disinherit his own flesh and blood. I have never liked Imhotep. As to
Yahmose, he is nothing. Satipy ruled him in every way. Lately, since she is gone, he takes authority on himself, gives orders. He would always prefer his children before mine–that is natural. So, if he is to die, it is as well for my children that it should be so–that is how I see it. Hori has no children and he is just. All these happenings have been upsetting–but I have been thinking lately that very likely they are all for the best.’

‘You can talk like that, Kait–so calmly, so coldly? When your own husband, whom you loved, was the first to be killed?’

A faint expression of some indefinable nature passed over Kait’s face. She gave Renisenb a glance which seemed to contain a certain scornful irony.

‘You are very like Teti sometimes, Renisenb. Really, one would swear, no older!’

‘You do not mourn for Sobek.’ Renisenb spoke the words slowly. ‘No, I have noticed that.’

‘Come, Renisenb, I fulfilled all the conventions. I know how a newly made widow should behave.’

‘Yes–that was all there was to it…So–it means–that you did not love Sobek?’

Kait shrugged her shoulders.

‘Why should I?’

‘Kait! He was your husband–he gave you children.’

Kait’s expression softened. She looked down at the
two small boys engrossed with the clay and then to where Ankh was rolling about chanting to herself and waving her little legs.

‘Yes, he gave me my children. For that I thank him. But what was he, after all? A handsome braggart–a man who was always going to other women. He did not take a sister, decently, into the household, some modest person who would have been useful to us all. No, he went to ill-famed houses, spending much copper and gold there, drinking too and asking for all the most expensive dancing girls. It was fortunate that Imhotep kept him as short as he did and that he had to account so closely for the sales he made on the estate. What love and respect should I have for a man like that? And what are men anyway? They are necessary to breed children, that is all. But the strength of the race is in the women. It is
we
, Renisenb, who hand down to our children all that is ours. As for men, let them breed and die early…’

The scorn and contempt in Kait’s voice rose in a note like some musical instrument. Her strong, ugly face was transfigured.

Renisenb thought with dismay:

‘Kait is strong. If she is stupid, it is with a stupidity that is satisfied with itself. She hates and despises men. I should have known. Once before I caught a glimpse of this–this
menacing
quality. Yes, Kait is strong–’

Unthinkingly, Renisenb’s gaze fell to Kait’s hands. They were squeezing and kneading clay–strong, muscular hands, and as Renisenb watched them pushing down the clay, she thought of Ipy and of strong hands pushing his head down into the water and holding it there inexorably. Yes, Kait’s hands could have done that…

The little girl, Ankh, rolled over on to a thorny spine and set up a wail. Kait rushed to her. She picked her up, holding her to her breast, crooning over her. Her face now was all love and tenderness. Henet came running out from the porch.

‘Is anything wrong? The child yelled so loud. I thought perhaps–’

She paused, disappointed. Her eager, mean, spiteful face, hoping for some catastrophe, fell.

Renisenb looked from one woman to the other.

Hate in one face. Love in the other. Which, she wondered, was the more terrible?

IV

‘Yahmose, be careful, be careful of Kait.’

‘Of Kait?’ Yahmose showed his astonishment. ‘My dear Renisenb–’

‘I tell you, she is dangerous.’

‘Our quiet Kait? She has always been a meek, submissive woman, not very clever–’

Renisenb interrupted him.

‘She is neither meek nor submissive. I am afraid of her, Yahmose. I want you to be on your guard.’

‘Against Kait?’ He was still incredulous. ‘I can hardly see Kait dealing out death all round. She would not have the brains.’

‘I do not think that it is brains that are concerned. A knowledge of poisons, that is all that has been needed. And you know that such knowledge is often found amongst certain families. They hand it down from mother to daughter. They brew these concoctions themselves from potent herbs. It is the kind of lore that Kait might easily have. She brews medicines for the children when they are ill, you know.’

‘Yes, that is true.’ Yahmose spoke thoughtfully.