‘All goes well, father. We have been reaping the barley. A good crop.’
‘Yes, thanks to Ra all goes well outside. Would it went as well inside. Still I must have faith in Ashayet–she will not refuse to aid us in our distress. I am worried about Yahmose. I cannot understand this lassitude–the unaccountable weakness.’
Ipy smiled scornfully.
‘Yahmose was always a weakling,’ he said.
‘That is not so,’ said Hori mildly. ‘His health has always been good.’
Ipy said assertively:
‘Health depends on the spirit of a man. Yahmose never had any spirit. He was afraid, even, to give orders.’
‘That is not so lately,’ said Imhotep. ‘Yahmose has shown himself to be full of authority in these last months. I have been surprised. But this weakness in the limbs worries me. Mersu assured me that once the effects of the poison had worn off, recovery should be swift.’
Hori moved some of the papyrus aside.
‘There are other poisons,’ he said quietly.
‘What do you mean?’ Imhotep wheeled round.
Hori spoke in a gentle, speculative voice.
‘There are poisons known which do not act at once, with violence. They are insidious. A little taken every day accumulates in the system. Only after long months of weakness, does death come…There is a knowledge of such things among women–they use them sometimes to remove a husband and to make it seem as though his death were natural.’
Imhotep grew pale.
‘Do you suggest that that–that–is what is the matter with Yahmose?’
‘I am suggesting that it is a possibility. Though his food is now tasted by a slave before he gets it, such a precaution means nothing, since the amount in any one dish on any one day would cause no ill effect.’
‘Folly,’ cried Ipy, loudly. ‘Absolute folly! I do not believe there are such poisons. I have never heard of them.’
Hori raised his eyes. ‘You are very young, Ipy. There are still things you do not know.’
Imhotep exclaimed, ‘But what can we do? We have appealed to Ashayet. We have sent offerings to the Temple–not that I have ever had much belief in temples. It is women who are credulous about such things. What more can be done?’
Hori said thoughtfully:
‘Let Yahmose’s food be prepared by one trustworthy slave, and let that slave be watched all the time.’
‘But that means–that here in this house–’
‘Rubbish,’ shouted Ipy. ‘Absolute rubbish.’
Hori raised his eyebrows.
‘Let it be tried,’ he said. ‘We shall soon see if it is rubbish.’
Ipy went angrily out of the room. Hori stared thoughtfully after him with a perplexed frown on his face.
VI
Ipy went out of the house in such a rage that he almost knocked over Henet.
‘Get out of my way, Henet. You are always creeping about and getting in the way.’
‘How rough you are, Ipy, you have bruised my arm.’
‘A good thing. I am tired of you and your snivelling ways. The sooner you are out of this house for good the better–and I shall see that you go.’
Henet’s eyes flashed maliciously.
‘So you would turn me out, would you? After all the care and love I have bestowed on you all. Devoted, I’ve been, to the whole family. Your father knows it well enough.’
‘He’s heard about it enough, I’m sure! And so have we! In my opinion you’re just an evil-tongued old mischief maker. You helped Nofret with her schemes–that I know well enough. Then she died and you came fawning round us again. But you’ll see–in the end my father will listen to me and not to your lying tales.’
‘You’re very angry, Ipy, what has made you angry?’
‘Never mind.’
‘You’re not afraid of something are you, Ipy? There are odd things going on here.’
‘You can’t frighten me, you old cat.’
He flung himself past her and out of the house.
Henet turned slowly inwards. A groan from Yahmose attracted her attention. He had raised himself from the couch and was trying to walk. But his legs seemed to fail him almost at once, and but for Henet’s rapid assistance he would have fallen to the ground.
‘There, Yahmose, there. Lie back again.’
‘How strong you are, Henet. One would not think it to look at you.’ He settled back again with his head on the wooden headrest. ‘Thank you. But what is the matter with me? Why this feeling as though my muscles were turned into water?’
‘The matter is that this house is bewitched. The work of a she-devil who came to us from the North. No good ever came out of the North.’
Yahmose murmured with sudden despondency:
‘I am dying. Yes, I am dying…’
‘Others will die before you,’ said Henet, grimly.
‘What? What do you mean?’ He raised himself on an elbow and stared at her.
‘I know what I am saying.’ Henet nodded her head several times. ‘It is not you who will die next. Wait and see.’
VII
‘Why do you avoid me, Renisenb?’
Kameni planted himself directly in Renisenb’s way. She flushed and found it difficult to give a suitable answer. It was true that she had deliberately turned aside when she saw Kameni coming.
‘Why, Renisenb, tell me why?’
But she had no answer ready, could only shake her head dumbly.
Then she glanced up at him as he stood facing her. She had had a faint dread that Kameni’s face, too, might seem different. It was with a curious gladness that she saw it unchanged, his eyes looked at her gravely and there was for once no smile upon his lips.
Before the look in his eyes her own fell. Kameni could always disturb her. His nearness affected her physically. Her heart beat a shade faster.
‘I know why you avoid me, Renisenb.’
She found her voice.
‘I–was not avoiding you. I did not see you coming.’
‘That is a lie.’ He was smiling now, she could hear it in his voice.
‘Renisenb, beautiful Renisenb.’
She felt his warm, strong hand around her arm and immediately she shook herself free.
‘Do not touch me! I do not like to be touched.’
‘Why do you fight against me, Renisenb? You know well enough the thing that is between us. You are young and strong and beautiful. It is against nature that you should go on grieving for a husband all your life. I will take you away from this house. It is full of deaths and evil spells. You shall come away with me and be safe.’
‘And suppose I do not want to come?’ said Renisenb with spirit.
Kameni laughed. His teeth gleamed white and strong.
‘But you do want to come, only you will not admit it! Life is good, Renisenb, when a sister and brother are together. I will love you and make you happy and you shall be a glorious field to me, your Lord. See, I shall no longer sing to Ptah, “Give me my sister tonight,” but I shall go to Imhotep and say, “Give me my sister Renisenb.” But I think it is not safe for you here, so I shall take you away. I am a good scribe and I can enter the household of one of the great nobles of Thebes if I wish, though actually I like the country life here–the cultivation and the cattle and the songs of the men who reap, and the little pleasure craft on the River. I would like to sail with you on the River, Renisenb. And we will take Teti with us. She is a beautiful, strong child and I will love her and be a good father to her. Come, Renisenb, what do you say?’
Renisenb stood silent. She was conscious of her heart beating fast and she felt a kind of languor stealing over her senses. Yet with this feeling of softness, this yielding, went something else–a feeling of antagonism.
‘The touch of his hand on my arm and I am all weakness…’ she thought. ‘Because of his strength…of his square shoulders…his laughing mouth…But I know nothing of his mind, of his thoughts, of his heart. There is no peace between us and no swee
tness…What do I want? I do not know…But not this…No, not this–’
She heard herself saying, and even in her own ears the words sounded weak and uncertain:
‘I do not want another husband…I want to be alone…to be myself…’
‘No, Renisenb, you are wrong. You were not meant to live alone. Your hand says so when it trembles with mine…See?’
With an effort Renisenb drew her hand away.
‘I do not love you, Kameni. I think I hate you.’
He smiled.
‘I do not mind you hating me, Renisenb. Your hate is very close to love. We will speak of this again.’
He left her, moving with the swiftness and easy gait of a young gazelle. Renisenb went slowly on to where Kait and the children were playing by the lake.
Kait spoke to her, but Renisenb answered at random.
Kait, however, did not seem to notice, or else, as usual, her mind was too full of the children to pay much attention to other things.
Suddenly, breaking the silence, Renisenb said:
‘Shall I take another husband? What do you say, Kait?’
Kait replied placidly without any great interest:
‘It would be as well, I think. You are strong and young, Renisenb, and you can have many more children.’
‘Is that all a woman’s life, Kait? To busy myself in the back of the house, to have children, to spend the afternoons with them by the lake under the sycamore trees?’
‘It is all that matters to a woman. Surely you know that. Do not speak as though you were a slave–women have power in Egypt–inheritance passes through them to their children. Women are the life blood of Egypt.’
Renisenb looked thoughtfully at Teti who was busily making a garland of flowers for her doll. Teti was frowning a little with the concentration of what she was doing. There had been a time when Teti had looked so like Khay, pushing out her underlip, turning her head a little sideways, that Renisenb’s heart had turned over with pain and love. But now not only was Khay’s face dim in Renisenb’s memory, but Teti no longer had that trick of head turning and pushing out her lip. There had been other moments when Renisenb had held Teti close to her, feeling the child still part of her own body, her own living flesh, with a passionate sense of ownership. ‘She is mine, all mine,’ she had said to herself.
Now watching her, Renisenb thought, ‘She is me–and she is Khay–’
Then Teti looked up, and seeing her mother, she smiled. It was a grave, friendly smile, with confidence in it and pleasure.
Renisenb thought: ‘No, she is not me and she is not Khay–she is herself. She is Teti. She is alone, as I am alone, as we are all alone. If there is love between us we shall be friends all our life–but if there is not love she will grow up and we shall be strangers. She is Teti and I am Renisenb.’
Kait was looking at her curiously.
‘What do you want, Renisenb? I do not understand.’
Renisenb did not answer. How put into words for Kait the things she hardly understood herself. She looked round her, at the courtyard walls, at the gaily coloured porch of the house, at the smooth waters of the lake and the graceful little pleasure pavilion, the neat flower beds and the clumps of papyrus. All safe, shut in, nothing to fear, with around her the murmur of the familiar home sounds, the babble of children’s voices, the raucous, far-off shrill clamour of women in the house, the distant lowing of cattle.
She said slowly:
‘One cannot see the River from here…’
Kait looked surprised. ‘Why should one want to see it?’
Renisenb said slowly:
‘I am stupid. I do not know…’
Before her eyes, very clearly, she saw spread out the panorama of green fields, rich and lush, and beyond, far away, an enchanted distance of pale rose and amethyst fading into the horizon, and cleaving the two, the pale silver blue of the Nile…
She caught her breath–for with the vision, the sights and sounds around her faded–there came instead a stillness, a richness, an infinite satisfaction…
She said to herself: ‘If I turn my head, I shall see Hori. He will look up from his papyrus and smile at me…Presently the sun will set and there will be darkness and then I shall sleep…That will be death.’
‘What did you say, Renisenb?’
Renisenb started. She was not aware she had spoken aloud. She came back from her vision to reality. Kait was looking at her curiously.
‘You said “Death”, Renisenb. What were you thinking?’
Renisenb shook her head.
‘I don’t know. I didn’t mean–’ She looked round her again. How pleasant it was, this family scene, with the splashing water, and the children at play. She drew a deep breath.
‘How peaceful it is here. One can’t imagine anything–horrible–happening here.’
But it was by the lake that they found Ipy the next morning. He was sprawled face downwards with his face in the water where a hand had held him while he drowned.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SECOND MONTH OF SUMMER 10TH DAY
Imhotep sat huddled down upon himself. He looked very much older, a broken shrunken old man. On his face was a piteous look of bewilderment.
Henet brought him food and coaxed him to take it.
‘Yes, yes, Imhotep, you must keep up your strength.’
‘Why should I? What is strength? Ipy was strong–strong in youth and beauty–and now he lies in the brine bath…My son, my dearly loved son. The last of my sons.’
‘No, no, Imhotep–you have Yahmose, your good Yahmose.’
‘For how long? No, he too is doomed. We are all doomed. What evil is this that has come upon us? Could I know that such things would come of taking a concubine into my house? It is an accepted thing to do–it is righteous and according to the law of men and Gods. I treated her with honour. Why, then, should these things come upon me? Or is it Ashayet who wreaks vengeance upon me? Is it she who will not forgive? Certainly she has made no answer to my petition. The evil business still goes on.’
‘No, no, Imhotep. You must not say that. So short a time has passed since the bowl was placed in the offering chamber. Does one not know how long affairs of law and justice take in this world–how endless are the delays in the Nomarch’s court–and still more when a case goes up to the Vizier. Justice is justice, in this world and the next, a business that moves slowly but is adjusted with righteousness in the end.’
Imhotep shook his head doubtfully. Henet went on.
‘Besides, Imhotep, you must remember that Ipy was not Ashayet’s son–he was born to your sister Ankh. Why, then, should Ashayet concern herself violently on his behalf? But with Yahmose, it will be different–Yahmose will recover because Ashayet will see to it that he does.’
‘I must admit, Henet, that your words comfort me…There is much in what you say. Yahmose, it is true, recovers strength now every day. He is a good loyal son–but oh! for my Ipy–such spirit–such beauty!’ Imhotep groaned anew.
‘Alas! Alas!’ Henet wailed in sympathy.
‘That accursed girl and her beauty! Would I had never set eyes on her.’
‘Yes, indeed, dear master. A daughter of Seth if ever I saw one. Learned in magic and evil spells, there can be no doubt about it.’
There was a tap of a stick on the floor and Esa came limping into the hall. She gave a derisive snort.
‘Has no one in this house any sense? Have you nothing better to do than bleat out curses against an unfortunate girl who took your fancy and who indulged in a little feminine spite and malice, goaded by the stupid behaviour of the stupid wives of your stupid sons?’
‘A little spiteful malice–is that what you call it, Esa? When, of my three sons, two are dead and one is dying! Oh! that my mother should say such a thing to me!’
‘It seems necessary that someone should say them since you cannot recognize facts for what they are. Wipe out of your mind this silly superstitious belief that a dead girl’s spirit is working t
his evil. It was a live hand that held Ipy head down in the lake to drown, and a live hand that dropped poison into the wine that Yahmose and Sobek drank. You have an enemy, yes, Imhotep, but an enemy here in this house. And the proof is that since Hori’s advice was taken and Renisenb herself prepares Yahmose’s food, or a slave prepares it while she watches and that her hand carries it to him, since then, I say, Yahmose has gained health and strength every day. Try to stop being a fool, Imhotep, and moaning and beating your head–in all of which Henet is being extremely helpful–’
‘Oh, Esa, how you misjudge me!’
‘In which, I say, Henet assists you–either because she is a fool too, or for some other reason–’
‘May Ra forgive you, Esa, for your unkindness to a poor lonely woman!’
Esa swept on, shaking her stick in an impressive gesture.
‘Pull yourself together, Imhotep, and think. Your dead wife Ashayet, who was a very lovely woman and not a fool, by the way, may exert her influence for you in the other world, but can hardly be expected to do your thinking for you in this one! We have got to act, for if we do not then there will be more deaths.’
‘A live enemy? An enemy in this house? You really believe that, Esa?’
‘Of course I believe it, because it is the only thing that makes sense.’
‘But then we are all in danger?’
‘Certainly we are. In danger not of spells and spirit hands, but of human agency–of live fingers that drop poison in food and drink, of a human figure that steals up behind a boy who returns late at night from the village and forces his head down into the waters of the lake!’
Imhotep said thoughtfully: ‘Strength would be needed for that.’
‘On the face of it, yes, but I am not sure. Ipy had drunk much beer in the village. He was in a wild and boastful mood. It may be that he returned home unsteady on his feet and that, having no fear of the person who accosted him, he bent of his own accord to bathe his face in the lake. Little strength would be needed then.’
‘What are you trying to say, Esa? That a woman did this thing? But it is impossible–the whole thing is impossible–there can be no enemy in this house or we should know it–I should know it!’