Death Comes As the End (6 page)

‘No one can harm me,’ she said, with a superb confidence. ‘If they did, it would be reported to your father–and he would exact vengeance. They will know that when they pause to think.’ She laughed. ‘What fools they have been–with their petty insults and persecutions! It was
my
game they played all the time.’

Renisenb said slowly:

‘So you have planned for this all along? And I was sorry for you–I thought we were unkind! I am not sorry any longer…I think, Nofret, that you are
wicked
. When you come to deny the forty-two sins at the hour of judgement you will not be able to say “I have done no evil.” Nor will you be able to say “I have not been covetous.” And your heart that is being weighed in the scales against the feather of truth will sink in the balance.’

Nofret said sullenly:

‘You are very pious all of a sudden. But I have not harmed
you
, Renisenb. I said nothing against you. Ask Kameni if that is not so.’

Then she walked across the courtyard and up the steps to the porch. Henet came out to meet her and the two women went into the house.

Renisenb turned slowly to Kameni.

‘So it was
you
, Kameni, who helped her to do this to us?’

Kameni said eagerly:

‘Are you angry with me, Renisenb? But what could I do? Before Imhotep left he charged me solemnly that I was to write at Nofret’s bidding at any time she might ask me to do so. Say you do not blame me, Renisenb. What else could I do?’

‘I cannot blame you,’ said Renisenb slowly. ‘You had, I suppose, to carry out my father’s orders.’

‘I did not like doing it–and it is true, Renisenb, there was not one word said against
you
.’

‘As if I cared about that!’

‘But I do. Whatever Nofret had told me, I would not have written one word that might harm
you
, Renisenb–please believe me.’

Renisenb shook her head perplexedly. The point Kameni was labouring to make seemed of little importance to her. She felt hurt and angry as though Kameni, in some way, had failed her. Yet he was, after all, a stranger. Though allied by blood, he was nevertheless a stranger whom her father had brought from a distant part of the country. He was a junior scribe who had been given a task by his employer, and who had obediently carried it out.

‘I wrote no more than truth,’ Kameni persisted. ‘There were no lies set down, that I swear to you.’

‘No,’ said Renisenb. ‘There would be no lies. Nofret is too clever for that.’

Old Esa had, after all, been right. That persecution over which Satipy and Kait had gloated had been just exactly what Nofret had wanted. No wonder that she had gone about smiling her cat-like smile.

‘She is bad,’ said Renisenb, following her thoughts. ‘Yes!’

Kameni assented. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘She is an evil creature.’

Renisenb turned and looked at him curiously.

‘You knew her before she came here, did you not? You knew her in Memphis?’

Kameni flushed and looked uncomfortable.

‘I did not know her well…I had heard of her. A proud girl, they said, ambitious and hard–and one who did not forgive.’

Renisenb flung back her head in sudden impatience.

‘I do not believe it,’ she said. ‘My father will not do what he threatens. He is angry at present–but he could not be so unjust. When he comes he will forgive.’

‘When he comes,’ said Kameni, ‘Nofret will see to it that he does not change his mind. You do not know Nofret, Renisenb. She is very clever and determined–and she is, remember, very beautiful.’

‘Yes,’ admitted Renisenb. ‘She is beautiful.’

She got up. For some reason the thought of Nofret’s beauty hurt her…

IV

Renisenb spent the afternoon playing with the children. As she took part in their game, the vague ache in her heart lessened. It was not until just before sunset that she stood upright, smoothing back her hair and
the pleats of her dress which had got crumpled and disarranged, and wondered vaguely why neither Satipy nor Kait had been out as usual.

Kameni had long gone from the courtyard. Renisenb went slowly across into the house. There was no one in the living-room and she passed through to the back of the house and the women’s quarters. Esa was nodding in the corner of her room and her little slave girl was marking piles of linen sheets. They were baking batches of triangular loaves in the kitchen. There was no one else about.

A curious emptiness pressed on Renisenb’s spirits. Where was everyone?

Hori had probably gone up to the Tomb. Yahmose might be with him or out on the fields. Sobek and Ipy would be with the cattle or possibly seeing to the cornbins. But where were Satipy and Kait, and where, yes, where was Nofret?

The strong perfume of Nofret’s unguent filled her empty room. Renisenb stood in the doorway staring at the little wood pillow, at a jewel box, at a heap of bead bracelets and a ring set with a blue glazed scarab. Perfumes, unguents, clothes, linens, sandals–all speaking of their owner, of Nofret who lived in their midst and who was a stranger and an enemy.

Where, Renisenb wondered, could Nofret herself be?

She went slowly towards the back entrance of the house and met Henet coming in.

‘Where is everybody, Henet? The house is empty except for my grandmother.’

‘How should
I
know, Renisenb? I have been working–helping with the weaving, seeing to a thousand and one things.
I
have not time for going for walks.’

That meant, thought Renisenb, that somebody had gone for a walk. Perhaps Satipy had followed Yahmose up to the Tomb to harangue further? But where was Kait? Unlike Kait to be away from her children for so long.

And again, a strange disturbing undercurrent, there ran the thought:

‘Where is Nofret?’

As though Henet had read the thought in her mind, she supplied the answer.

‘As for Nofret, she went off a long time ago up to the Tomb. Oh well, Hori is a match for her.’ Henet laughed spitefully. ‘Hori has brains too.’ She sidled a little closer to Renisenb. ‘I wish you knew, Renisenb, how unhappy I’ve been over all this. She came to me, you know, that day–with the mark of Kait’s fingers on her cheek and the blood streaming down. And she got Kameni to write and me to say what I’d seen–and of course I couldn’t say I
hadn’t
seen it! Oh, she’s a clever one. And I, thinking all the time of your dear mother–’

Renisenb pushed past her and went out into the golden glow of the evening sun. Deep shadows were on the cliffs–the whole world looked fantastic at this hour of sunset.

Renisenb’s steps quickened as she took the way to the cliff path. She would go up to the Tomb–find Hori. Yes, find Hori. It was what she had done as a child when her toys had been broken–when she had been uncertain or afraid. Hori was like the cliffs themselves, steadfast, immovable, unchanging.

Renisenb thought confusedly: Everything will be all right when I get to Hori…

Her steps quickened–she was almost running.

Then suddenly she saw Satipy coming towards her. Satipy, too, must have been up to the Tomb.

What a very odd way Satipy was walking, swaying from side to side, stumbling as though she could not see…

When Satipy saw Renisenb she stopped short, her hand went to her breast. Renisenb, drawing close, was startled at the sight of Satipy’s face.

‘What’s the matter, Satipy, are you ill?’

Satipy’s voice in answer was a croak, her eyes were shifting from side to side.

‘No, no, of course not.’

‘You look ill. You look frightened. What has happened?’

‘What should have happened? Nothing, of course.’

‘Where have you been?’

‘I went up to the Tomb–to find Yahmose. He was not there. No one was there.’

Renisenb still stared. This was a new Satipy–a Satipy with all the spirit and resolution drained out of her.

‘Come, Renisenb–come back to the house.’

Satipy put a slightly shaking hand on Renisenb’s arm, urging her back the way she had come and at the touch Renisenb felt a sudden revolt.

‘No, I am going up to the Tomb.’

‘There is no one there, I tell you.’

‘I like to look over the River. To sit there.’

‘But the sun is setting–it is too late.’

Satipy’s fingers closed vice-like over Renisenb’s arm. Renisenb wrenched herself loose.

‘Let me go, Satipy.’

‘No. Come back. Come back with me.’

But Renisenb had already broken loose, pushed past her, and was on her way to the cliff.

There was something–instinct told her there was
something
…Her steps quickened to a run…

Then she saw it–the dark bundle lying under the shadow of the cliff…She hurried along until she stood close beside it.

There was no surprise in her at what she saw. It was as though already she had expected it…

Nofret lay with her face upturned, her body broken and twisted. Her eyes were open and sightless…

Renisenb bent and touched the cold stiff cheek then stood up again looking down at her. She hardly heard Satipy come up behind her.

‘She must have fallen,’ Satipy was saying. ‘She has fallen. She was walking along the cliff path and she fell…’

Yes, Renisenb thought, that was what had happened. Nofret had fallen from the path above, her body bouncing off the limestone rocks.

‘She may have seen a snake,’ said Satipy, ‘and been startled. There are snakes asleep in the sun on that path sometimes.’

Snakes. Yes, snakes.
Sobek and the snake
. A snake, its back broken, lying dead in the sun. Sobek, his eyes gleaming…

She thought:
Sobek
…
Nofret
…

Then sudden relief came to her as she heard Hori’s voice.

‘What has happened?’

She turned with relief. Hori and Yahmose had come up together. Satipy was explaining eagerly that Nofret must have fallen from the path above.

Yahmose said, ‘She must have come up to find us, but Hori and I have been out to look at the irrigation canals.
We have been away at least an hour. As we came back we saw you standing here.’

Renisenb said, and her voice surprised her, it sounded so different: ‘
Where is Sobek?
’

She felt rather than saw Hori’s immediate sharp turn of the head at the question. Yahmose sounded merely puzzled as he said:

‘Sobek? I have not seen him all the afternoon. Not since he left us so angrily in the house.’

But Hori was looking at Renisenb. She raised her eyes and met his. She saw him turn from their gaze and look down thoughtfully at Nofret’s body and she knew with absolute certainty exactly what he was thinking.

He murmured questioningly:

‘Sobek?’

‘Oh no,’ Renisenb heard herself saying. ‘Oh no…Oh
no
…’

Satipy said again urgently: ‘
She fell from the path
. It is narrow just above here–and dangerous…’

Sobek liked killing. ‘
What I do, I shall enjoy doing
…’

Sobek killing a snake…

Sobek meeting Nofret on that narrow path…

She heard herself murmuring brokenly:

‘We don’t know–we don’t
know
…’

And then, with intimate relief, with the sense of a
burden taken away, she heard Hori’s grave voice giving weight and value to Satipy’s asseveration.

‘She must have fallen from the path…’

His eyes met Renisenb’s. She thought: ‘He and I know…We shall always know…’

Aloud she heard her voice saying shakily:

‘She fell from the path…’

And like a final echo, Yahmose’s gentle voice chimed in.

‘She must have fallen from the path.’

Imhotep sat facing Esa.

‘They all tell the same story,’ he said fretfully.

‘That is at least convenient,’ said Esa.

‘Convenient–convenient? What extraordinary words you use!’

Esa gave a short cackle.

‘I know what I am saying, my son.’

‘Are they speaking the truth, that is what
I
have to decide!’ Imhotep spoke portentously.

‘You are hardly the goddess Maat. Nor, like Anubis, can you weigh the heart in a balance!’

‘Was it an accident?’ Imhotep shook his head judicially. ‘I have to remember that the announcement of my intentions towards my ungrateful family may have aroused some passionate feelings.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ said Esa. ‘Feelings were aroused. They shouted so in the main hall that I could hear what was said in my room here. By the way, were those
really
your intentions?’

Imhotep shifted uneasily as he murmured:

‘I wrote in anger–in justifiable anger. My family needed teaching a sharp lesson.’

‘In other words,’ said Esa, ‘you were merely giving them a fright. Is that it?’

‘My dear mother, does that matter now?’

‘I see,’ said Esa. ‘You did not know what you meant to do. Muddled thinking as usual.’

Imhotep controlled his irritation with an effort.

‘I simply mean that that particular point no longer arises. It is the facts of Nofret’s death that are now in question. If I were to believe that anyone in my family could be so undutiful, so unbalanced in their anger, as wantonly to harm the girl–I–I really do not know what I should do!’

‘So it is fortunate,’ said Esa, ‘that they all tell the same story! Nobody has hinted at anything else, have they?’

‘Certainly not.’

‘Then why not regard the incident as closed? You should have taken the girl North with you. I told you so at the time.’

‘Then you
do
believe–’

Esa said with emphasis:

‘I believe what I am told, unless it conflicts with what I have seen with my own eyes (which is very little nowadays), or heard with my own ears. You have questioned Henet, I suppose? What has she to say of the matter?’

‘She is deeply distressed–very distressed. On my behalf.’

Esa raised her eyebrows.

‘Indeed. You surprise me.’

‘Henet,’ said Imhotep warmly, ‘has a lot of heart.’

‘Quite so. She has also more than the usual allowance of tongue. If distress at your loss is her only reaction, I should certainly regard the incident as closed. There are plenty of other affairs to occupy your attention.’

‘Yes, indeed.’ Imhotep rose with a reassumption of his fussy, important manner. ‘Yahmose is waiting for me now in the main hall with all sorts of matters needing my urgent attention. There are many decisions awaiting my sanction. As you say, private grief must not usurp the main functions of life.’

He hurried out.

Esa smiled for a moment, a somewhat sardonic smile, then her face grew grave again. She sighed and shook her head.

II

Yahmose was awaiting his father with Kameni in attendance. Hori, Yahmose explained, was superintending the work of the embalmers and undertakers who were busy with the last stages of the funeral preparations.

It had taken Imhotep some weeks to journey home after receiving the news of Nofret’s death, and the funeral preparations were now almost completed. The body had received its long soaking in the brine bath, had been restored to some semblance of its normal appearance, had been oiled and rubbed with salts, and duly wrapped in its bandages and deposited in its coffin.

Yahmose explained that he had appointed a small funeral chamber near the rock tomb designed later to hold the body of Imhotep himself. He went into the details of what he had ordered and Imhotep expressed his approval.

‘You have done well, Yahmose,’ he said kindly. ‘You seem to have shown very good judgement and to have kept your head well.’

Yahmose coloured a little at this unexpected praise.

‘Ipi and Montu are, of course, expensive embalmers,’ went on Imhotep. ‘These canopic jars, for instance, seem
to me unduly costly. There is really no need for such extravagance. Some of their charges seem to me much too high. That is the worst of these embalmers who have been employed by the Governor’s family. They think they can charge any fantastic prices they like. It would have come much cheaper to go to somebody less well known.’

‘In your absence,’ said Yahmose, ‘I had to decide on these matters–and I was anxious that all honour should be paid to a concubine for whom you had so great a regard.’

Imhotep nodded and patted Yahmose’s shoulder.

‘It was a fault on the right side, my son. You are, I know, usually most prudent in money matters. I appreciate that in this matter, any unnecessary expense was incurred in order to please me. All the same, I am not made of money, and a concubine is–er ahem!–only a concubine. We will cancel, I think, the more expensive of the amulets–and let me see, there are one or two other ways of cutting down the fees…Just read out the items of the estimate, Kameni.’

Kameni rustled the papyrus.

Yahmose breathed a sigh of relief.

III

Kait, coming slowly out from the house to the lake, paused where the children and their mothers were.

‘You were right, Satipy,’ she said. ‘A dead concubine is
not
the same as a live concubine!’

Satipy looked up at her, her eyes vague and unseeing. It was Renisenb who asked quickly:

‘What do you mean, Kait?’

‘For a live concubine, nothing was too good–clothes, jewels–even the inheritance of Imhotep’s own flesh and blood! But now Imhotep is busy cutting down the cost of the funeral expenses! After all, why waste money on a dead woman? Yes, Satipy, you were right.’

Satipy murmured: ‘What did I say? I have forgotten.’

‘It is best so,’ agreed Kait. ‘I, too, have forgotten. And Renisenb also.’

Renisenb looked at Kait without speaking. There had been something in Kait’s voice–something faintly menacing, that impressed Renisenb disagreeably. She had always been accustomed to think of Kait as rather a stupid woman–someone gentle and submissive, but rather negligible. It struck her now that Kait and Satipy seemed to have changed places. Satipy the dominant and aggressive was subdued–almost timid. It was the quiet Kait who now seemed to domineer over Satipy.

But people, thought Renisenb, do not really change their characters–or do they? She felt confused. Had Kait and Satipy
really
changed in the last few weeks, or was the change in the one the result of the change in the other? Was it Kait who had grown aggressive? Or did she merely
seem
so because of the sudden collapse of Satipy?

Satipy definitely
was
different. Her voice was no longer upraised in the familiar shrewish accents. She crept round the courtyard and the house with a nervous, shrinking gait quite unlike her usual self-assured manner. Renisenb had put down the change in her to the shock of Nofret’s death, but it was incredible that that shock could last so long. It would have been far more like Satipy, Renisenb could not but think, to have exulted openly in a matter of fact manner over the concubine’s sudden and untimely death. As it was, she shrank nervously whenever Nofret’s name was mentioned. Even Yahmose seemed to be exempt from her hectoring and bullying and had, in consequence, begun to assume a more resolute demeanour himself. At any rate, the change in Satipy was all to the good–or at least so Renisenb supposed. Yet something about it made her vaguely uneasy…

Suddenly, with a start, Renisenb became aware that Kait was looking at her, was frowning. Kait, she realized, was waiting for a word of assent to something she had just said.

‘Renisenb also,’ repeated Kait, ‘has forgotten.’

Suddenly Renisenb felt a flood of revolt overwhelm her. Neither Kait, nor Satipy, nor anyone should dictate to her what she should or should not remember. She returned Kait’s look steadily with a distinct hint of defiance.

‘The women of a household,’ said Kait, ‘must stand together.’

Renisenb found her voice. She said clearly and defiantly:

‘Why?’

‘Because their interests are the same.’

Renisenb shook her head violently. She thought, confusedly, ‘I am a person as well as a woman. I am Renisenb.’

Aloud she said: ‘It is not so simple as that.’

‘Do you want to make trouble, Renisenb?’

‘No. And anyway, what do you mean by trouble?’

‘Everything that was said that day in the big hall had best be forgotten.’

Renisenb laughed.

‘You are stupid, Kait. The servants, the slaves, my grandmother–everyone must have overheard! Why pretend that things did not happen that did happen?’

‘We were angry,’ said Satipy in a dull voice. ‘We did not mean what we said.’

She added with a feverish irritability:

‘Stop talking about it, Kait. If Renisenb wants to make trouble, let her.’

‘I don’t want to make trouble,’ said Renisenb, indignantly. ‘But it is stupid to
pretend
.’

‘No,’ said Kait. ‘It is wisdom. You have Teti to consider.’

‘Teti is all right.’

‘Everything is all right–
now that Nofret is dead
,’ Kait smiled.

It was a serene, quiet, satisfied smile–and again Renisenb felt a tide of revolt rise in her.

Yet what Kait said was true. Now that Nofret was dead everything was all right.

Satipy, Kait, herself, the children…All secure–all at peace–with no apprehensions for the future. The intruder, the disturbing, menacing stranger, had departed–for ever.

Then why this stirring of an emotion that she did not understand on Nofret’s behalf? Why this feeling of championship for the dead girl whom she had not liked? Nofret was wicked and Nofret was dead–could she not leave it at that? Why this sudden stab of pity–of something more than pity–something that was almost comprehension?

Renisenb shook her head perplexedly. She sat on
there by the water after the others had gone in, trying vainly to understand the confusion in her mind.

The sun was low when Hori, crossing the courtyard, saw her and came to sit beside her.

‘It is late, Renisenb. The sun is setting. You should go in.’ His grave, quiet voice soothed her, as always. She turned to him with a question.

‘
Must
the women of a household stick together?’

‘Who has been saying that to you, Renisenb?’

‘Kait. She and Satipy–’

Renisenb broke off.

‘And you–want to think for yourself?’

‘Oh,
think
! I do not know how to think, Hori. Everything is confused in my head.
People
are confused. Everybody is different from what I thought they were. Satipy I always thought was bold, resolute, domineering. But now she is weak, vacillating, even timid. Then which is the real Satipy? People cannot change like that in a day.’

‘Not in a day–no.’

‘And Kait–she who was always meek and submissive and let everybody bully her. Now she dominates us all! Even Sobek seems afraid of her. And even Yahmose is different–he gives orders and expects them to be obeyed!’

‘And all this confuses you, Renisenb?’

‘Yes. Because I do not
understand
. I feel sometimes that even Henet may be quite different from what she appears to be!’

Renisenb laughed as though at an absurdity, but Hori did not join her. His face remained grave and thoughtful.

‘You have never thought very much about people, have you, Renisenb? If you had you would realize–’ He paused and then went on. ‘You know that in all tombs there is always a false door?’

Renisenb stared. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘Well, people are like that too. They create a false door–to deceive. If they are conscious of weakness, of inefficiency, they make an imposing door of self-assertion, of bluster, of overwhelming authority–and, after a time, they get to believe in it themselves. They think, and everybody thinks, that they
are
like that. But behind that door, Renisenb, is bare rock…And so when reality comes and touches them with the feather of truth–their true self reasserts itself. For Kait gentleness and submission brought her all she desired–a husband and children. Stupidity made life easier for her–but when reality in the form of danger threatened, her true nature appeared. She did not change, Renisenb–that strength and that ruthlessness were always there.’

Renisenb said childishly: ‘But I do not like it, Hori. It
makes me afraid. Everyone being different from what I thought them. And what about myself?
I
am always the same.’

‘Are you?’ He smiled at her. ‘Then why have you sat here all these hours, your forehead puckered, brooding and thinking? Did the old Renisenb–the Renisenb who went away with Khay–ever do that?’

‘Oh no. There was no need–’ Renisenb stopped.

‘You see? You have said it yourself. That is the word of reality–
need
! You are not the happy, unthinking child you have always appeared to be, accepting everything at its face value. You are not just one of the women of the household. You are Renisenb who wants to think for herself, who wonders about other people…’

Renisenb said slowly: ‘I have been wondering about Nofret…’

‘What have you been wondering?’

‘I have been wondering why I cannot forget her…She was bad and cruel and tried to do us harm and she is dead–why can I not leave it at that?’

‘Can you not leave it at that?’

‘No. I try to–but–’ Renisenb paused. She passed her hand across her eyes perplexedly. ‘Sometimes I feel I
know
about Nofret, Hori.’

‘Know? What do you mean?’

‘I can’t explain. But it comes to me every now and
then–almost as though she were here, beside me. I feel–almost–as though I were her–I seem to know what she felt. She was very unhappy, Hori, I know that now, though I didn’t at the time. She wanted to hurt us all
because
she was so unhappy.’

‘You cannot know that, Renisenb.’

‘No, of course I cannot
know
it, but it is what I
feel
. That misery, that bitterness, that black hate–I saw it in her face once, and I did not understand! She must have loved someone and then something went wrong–perhaps he died…or went away–but it left her like that–wanting to hurt, to wound. Oh! you may say what you like, I know I am right! She became a concubine to that old man, my father–and she came here, and we disliked her–and she thought she would make us all as unhappy as she was–Yes, that was how it was!’