“The foreman is pushing you to finish the tomb,” Shabaka deduced.
“He does this every year, but stone does not chip faster, and paint does not dry quicker. One would think that he is in a hurry, because the pharaoh is on his deathbed.”
“If we work faster on the hieroglyphs, we will chip away too much and will have to start over,” one of the men added.
“Could Rawler have made such a mistake?” Shabaka asked.
“Rawler? No, he’s too careful.”
“Then why the concern?”
“He is worse this year,” the same man spoke up.
“Worse?” Shabaka lifted one brow in question.
“With all that has happened the past few days, we have only made a little progress. Many of the men fear the curse and refuse to go into the tomb until the priests have cleared it. Panep has threatened us with longer workdays to catch up.”
Neti reached out to Shabaka’s arm, placing her hand on the forearm, just as he was about to speak, causing him instead to look at her. She moved closer to him and lowly husked, “One of the men has blood on his clothes.”
He was visibly taken aback by her words, before asking, “Which one?”
Neti pointed to the man. Nameb, picking up on their sudden shift of attention, shifted his gaze to the man she’d indicated.
“You like Ghisup? he asked, turning to look at Neti, “He is about your age.”
“He has blood on his clothes,” Neti calmly stated.
Nameb looked at the man in question, who shifted some under his pointed glare, and replied, “It is understandable. Ghisup is a hunter by heart—spends his free time hunting the local game, especially antelope. The meat makes for good bartering in the village.”
“I would like his clothes,” Neti stated.
A jousting broke out among the men present.
“Neti?” Shabaka questioned, causing her to look at him.
“I can determine if it is human or animal blood.”
Shabaka just looked at her and then nodded. Turning his attention toward Nameb, he said, “We’ll take his clothes.”
“Well, you heard the woman, Ghisup,” Nameb said, “She wants your clothes.”
At Nameb’s words, renewed jousting started among the men, who edged the young man on.
The young man cockily stepped forward, “Well, if she wanted to see me naked, she had only to ask. I would not deny a woman her desires.”
Neti felt Shabaka stiffen next to her, when the man started to untie his sash.
Neti’s heart raced at the man’s actions. She had not meant for him to literally take his clothes off in front of her, and for a moment, she felt a bolt of dread shoot through her as he pulled his throbe off. She had seen many naked bodies in her life, although none of them were alive, or, as in this case, aroused.
Holding his throbe in one hand, the young man pulled himself to full height, cockily asking, “Like what you see?” and then turned around for an all-round display, with the men cheering him on.
Neti looked him over, and, although not as physical as some of the others, he was attractive and seemed to know it. Shabaka stiffly stepped forward and yanked the throbe from the young man’s grasp, seething, “Cover yourself.”
“What?” the young man challenged, “You scared your partner prefers me to you, and perhaps I’ll give her more?”
At his words, the men cheered, causing Neti to smile and shake her head. Having regained her equilibrium, she replied, “I would not be so sure, if I were you.” Holding her thumb and forefinger a short distance from each other she continued, “When you die, your manhood will shrink to this size. Besides, I have seen far better.”
The young man looked around him, before challenging her, “What do you mean?”
Amused by his sudden retreat and that of the confused expressions of the other men, Neti deadpanned, “I have embalmed many men already and can tell you with great certainty that your breeding pride does not remain so after death.” Her statement caused all the men in the room to fall silent. “Besides, if you really wanted to attract a woman, you should consider bathing and washing your clothes every so often. I can smell the stench from here.”
Just then, Nameb burst out laughing. “I like you, you are not afraid to speak your mind,” he stated, looking at Neti, “You have spirit and would make for a fine companion.” Nameb then turned his attention to the young man who looked decidedly chided and commanded, “Put some clothes on, Ghisup. You can see the woman is not interested.”
The young man moved to the back of the group of gathered men, and Neti breathed a sigh of relief. She then turned to look at Shabaka, who seemed rigid next to her. She smiled at him, ignoring Nameb’s words, “We can go now, unless you have something you want to ask.”
Shabaka looked at Nameb, “That man,” he said, indicating the back of the room, “may not leave the camp to go anywhere, other than to work in the tomb. If he does, the medjay will hunt him down.”
“They’re going to blame him for Rawler’s murder,” one of the men called out, rousing the others.
“If it is animal blood,” Neti spoke up, “then the test I perform will confirm it. The same as the test we performed on your tools showed that none of them was used.”
“I don’t believe it,” the young man stated, pushing his way to the front, his body partially covered. “I know how the pharaoh’s men extract information. My brother was whipped until he admitted to something he had not done. You just want someone to blame!”
“No one said anything about whipping,” Shabaka countered, when the men again roused. “And as for your brother, I cannot comment. All I can say is that we do not work like that.”
“Leave it be, Ghisup,” Nameb spoke, “If they had wanted to blame someone, they would have done so when they took the tools.”
“How can you be so sure?” the young man demanded, “It is not you they will punish.”
“You did not see them arrive here with the medjay, as the others have. They are not dragging you out of here by the scuff of your throbe. So stop bickering like a small dog that is too scared to bite.”
The young man fell silent, looking from Neti to Shabaka. Neti could see the loathing in his stance, but chose not to respond to it and instead indicated to Shabaka that they should leave.
9
SHABAKA FOLLOWED HER from Nameb’s home, still clenching Ghisup’s throbe. They made their way toward Rawler’s home. His mind churned over the preceding events, and the more he thought about them, the more angered he became.
He looked toward Neti, seething, wondering if she even realized just how much danger she could have been in. He had never know any man—never mind a woman—who was as unaffected by the strong-arm tactics. Yes, he understood the practice and had learned, on a few occasions, what can happen, if one did not heed such actions. However, he could not stop contemplating what it could have meant for her, as she had remained fearless, unwilling to submit to the man’s strong-arm tactics.
Her actions and words had roused numerous other questions in his mind and caused him to question how much he really knew about her. Once the shock of her actions had dissipated, his heart sank, for lately everything pointed toward her having a male interest in her life. Her response in the past had been that of embarrassment, needing to compose herself, only to unflinchingly knock back a man. She had not even hesitated in the presence of a naked man, in a room where one could feel the desire for her seep from the men.
He thoughtlessly followed her into the small home, looking around as she started to move. There was not much in the small home, other than a few blankets, an oil lamp, flint stones, a sleeping mat and an odd assortment of rags. Anything of worth had already been removed. In the back of his mind, he cursed himself for the oversight, knowing that they should have gone through the little home sooner.
He watched as Neti worked through a pile of goods in the far corner. Her passion for seeking answers had always been a driving factor, yet it
felt as if she was trying to create some distance between them.
“Are you going to help?” Neti finally demanded, looking at him, jolting him from his thoughts.
“Yes, sure,” he replied, placing the throbe just inside the entrance and pointing to the other end, “I’ll check that side.”
A few moments later, he heard a low hiss from her side and turned to look at her. “What is it?”
She turned toward him, extending a stained rag wrapped around something.
“What’s that?”
“Looks like it could be the tool that killed Rawler.”
“What?” Shabaka asked, moving over to her side.
Neti opened the rag to reveal a steel chisel with an odd-shaped end. “None of the tools Moses confiscated looked like this,” Neti stated, “The edges on this could cause the indents we saw on the head.”
“How can you be certain?” he asked.
“I can’t, we’ll have to test it first. These stains on the rag look like dried blood, so I can test that also.”
“But, why leave it here, where it can be found?”
“I think the bigger question is if it is here, what did the killer take?”
Shabaka looked around the room, “There is not much here, and his wife could possibly have collected any items of worth . . . but not the chisel.”
“Don’t all tools belong to the pharaoh?” Neti asked.
Shabaka nodded, “You are right, she would not have taken it.”
“But she could know what was taken from here, we should return to the village.”
“It is approaching nightfall already, we can’t leave now.”
“Why not?”
“These hills are not safe at night,” Shabaka stated, “There are banditti who would attack.”
Neti looked around the small room, “So we are to remain here for the evening.”
“You will be safe here, I will keep you safe,” he assured. In the back of his mind, he wondered if the incident with Nameb’s men could have unnerved her enough to want to return to the village. Their obvious behavior had concerned him.
“I have no doubt of that,” Neti replied. However, her tone was off, and she moved to the oil lamp. Checking the contents, she spoke, “There is not much oil in it.” She picked it and the flint-stones up, “I did not see any more oil.”
She settled on the sleeping mat and looked over the blankets, “There is one each,” she said extending one toward him.
“You take the mat,” Shabaka said, “I’ve learned to sleep sitting upright.”
Neti pulled her satchel over her head before reaching into it. “It is not much, but it will keep the hunger at bay,” she said, pulling a few pieces of flatbread from its confines.
“Thank you,” Shabaka replied. Not too long ago, he would have given his own teeth to spend an evening with her. However, the silence that fell between them as they ate quickly became loaded. His body responded to her presence, her every move. Every touch she had bestowed, even unknowingly, had sent heat coursing through his body. He wanted to breach the subject of what had happened that morning, however, he did not know if he should apologize for it or push to regain the ground. He knew what he wanted, what his body wanted, but following the afternoon’s events, he was not certain if his attentions would be unwelcome.
She lit the lamp, once she had finished her bread, and then pulled out her water-skin, looking toward him, “You still have enough water?”
He nodded, “A bit, I’ll go fill our skins at the well, when I’m done eating.”
“They have a well here?” Neti asked surprised, before lifting the bag to her lips, for the first time drinking more than the few sips he had seen her take at times. He then realized that she’d been conserving her water.
“It is one of the reasons why the village is situated here,” then he became engrossed with her neck as she swallowed the water, the rippling movements as she swallowed, and he found himself envious of the water-skin.
When she finished, she placed the stopper back in the skin and extended it to him. Her action snapped him out of his stupor, as he took the skin from her, his fingers brushing against hers as he took it. A jolt of sensation shot through his hand, and he really had to concentrate to keep his grip on the water-skin.
Not bothering to finish the bread she had handed him, he got up and left to fill the water-skins, allowing her some time to get ready for the evening.
At the well, he looked at her water-skin, his fingers tracing the stopper, his thoughts returning to where it had been mere moments before. A sound off to his side snapped him from his thoughts, immediately reminding him where they were, and that there were far too many men in need of a woman about for him to leave her alone for any extended period of time. He quickly filled the water-skins and returned to the small home, thankful to find her already settled for the evening. He placed her water-skin next to her satchel, and in turn pulled his blanket over his shoulders, settling against the opposite wall, before blowing out the lamp.
“Night, Shabaka.”
“Night, Neti.”
He settled against the wall, the dark and stillness of the evening sharpened his senses. He could hear the slightest shuffling she made under the blankets, and the rustling of the breeze outside and the crickets chirping in the distance.
Every once in a while he could distinguish snippets of conversation. But knew it would not be long before the entire village settled. Even he was tired from all the traveling, not to mention the extreme high and low moments of the day. He could therefore understand Neti’s desire to get some rest. Yet, even with his body weary, he could not settle. His mind would not let up on the earlier events, and his body was in a constant state of awareness.
* * *
He was not certain how much time had passed, or when exactly he had managed to finally drift off to sleep, only that his sleep had been disturbed. It took him a few moments to gather his thoughts as to where they were. Just as he remembered, he heard a rustling sound not far from him. He listened intently, focusing in the dark, not wanting to alert whoever was within the small house to know that he had woken.
He saw movement near where Neti lay and without thought lunged toward it.
Connecting with the person, his momentum sent them both crashing to the floor. A pain-filled “oomph” sounded, which went straight to his gut, as a cold bolt of dread shot through him. The reaction only lasted for a heartbeat, before his body responded to that of the one below him. His heart started racing, as heat flowed through his limbs.”
“Neti,” he gasped.
Her firm “Yes,” broke through the haze of his building arousal.
“What are you doing awake?” he asked, but instead of lifting off her as his mind instructed him to do, his body pushed down into hers, seeking even closer contact.
“I needed to relieve myself,” she replied, her voice low.
Shabaka realized that she would already be able to feel his body’s reaction and tried to regain some control over his thoughts. Her sudden stiffening below him was like a knife to his heart, the action made her receptiveness of his attentions clear. Especially when she said, “You can get off me so I can go now.”
Shabaka hastened to scamper off her, thankful for the darkness and that he did not have to meet her eyes.
He listened as she regained her feet and made for the doorway, “I’ll be back in a few moments.” Her voice was uneven, and he chided himself for it.
“Don’t go too far,” he cautioned, fighting against his instinct to follow her, knowing she needed her privacy.
Settling back in his corner, he tried to will his body into submission. Wherever it had been in contact with hers seemed aflame, and no matter what he tried it would not recede.
He listened as she returned and could just distinguish her settling again in the darkness.
“Sorry for scaring you,” he said, scarcely above a whisper.
“You don’t need to apologize,” she replied, �
��It is good to know that you sleep lightly and will take on anyone who threatens my safety.”
“Always,” Shabaka whispered, more to himself, before settling for the evening, all the while knowing it was going to be a long night.
10
THE TRIP BACK TO THE VILLAGE the following morning was accompanied by a heavy silence, while Neti ensured to maintain a careful distance between herself and Shabaka. She was aware of his periodic glances, but preferred to not take notice of them, keeping her eyes averted, staring into the distance.
Consumed by sheer frustration at her untimely misfortune, she became more and more angered by the lingering images of what could have been. She had felt his arousal, known it would not take much to entice him . . . had it not been for her menses starting. As it was, the way-camp village was not equipped for women, and she had been caught wholly unprepared for it. On her return to the small little house, she had sensed his tension and had spent the remainder of the night cursing her fortune while trying to remain still, which was why she was so tired and irritated, yet determined to keep up a steady pace. The sooner they returned to the village, the sooner she could properly see to her needs.
She glanced sideways at Shabaka, taking in his tense body and strained expression, and had no idea as to what to say to him, or even if she should say anything. Somehow, she also knew it would never happen again, that he would keep his distance from her in the future. As it was, it had only occurred because he had anticipated an intruder. She could not even be angry with him for that, especially because her own mind had seemed preoccupied with the possibility that one of Nameb’s men could seek them out. Although the man would have been disgusted by her menses—much as Shabaka would have been . . .
They entered the village just as the sun rose to its zenith, and Neti fought the dizzy sensation that overcame her. She could see Moses approaching, and, from the determination in his stride, she was certain it did not bode well for her chances to excuse herself. She saw Moses look from her toward Shabaka and knew that the young man would miss out on nothing. He would notice the tension between them and draw his own conclusions, not that they would necessarily be the right ones.
The Curse of Anubis - A Mystery in Ancient Egypt (The Mummifier's Daughter Series Book 3) Page 10