Pharaoh's Gold

by Nathaniel Burns

  Neti’s eyes enlarged, “You don’t mean…”

  “If we have to, we will,” Shabaka said flatly.

  “Will what?” Seota asked, looking from one to the other.

  “Whip them,” Neti said, her voice flat.

  Seota turned to look at Shabaka in horror.

  “If it is needed, then so we shall,” Shabaka reaffirmed.

  “I don’t think I want to see that,” Seota said, with a combination of fear and disgust in her voice.

  “You won’t have to. I have another task for you,” Shabaka said.

  Neti for a moment glared at him but said nothing.

  “What is that?” Seota hesitantly asked. “I promised the queen I would finish the shift I was making for the princess.”

  “It can wait,” Shabaka dismissed, causing Neti to frown and Seota to look at her in concern.

  “I want you to remain at the craft hall after we have removed the Craft Masters,” Shabaka started and then noticed Seota’s concerned expression. “I will post several mejay at the hall so you will not be alone.”

  “What ever for? I don’t know anything about the craft hall.”

  “Which is precisely why I want to leave you there while. The mejay will ensure the men remain at their workspace and continue with their work.”

  “I don’t understand,” Neti said. “If the mejay are there, why would she need to remain and possibly suffer the goading of the men?”

  “To the crafters, neither Seota nor the mejay know what the workers are supposed to be doing,” Shabaka started. “So my reasoning is that if someone was willing to take a chance and steal gold, it would be then. She only has to observe the men, see if anyone appears to be acting strange.”

  “So you haven’t completely given up on the possibility that someone could be stealing gold?” Neti said.

  “No. And the best way to catch them it to identify those who do things they are not supposed to.”

  “So you want me to catch them?” Seota asked, confused.

  “No, I simply need you to watch them. I want you to identify anyone who appears to do things differently from the others. And since the crafters are already familiar enough with you to know that you are connected to us, they will not yet think you capable of such reasoning. It is the one time your youth will be most useful.”

  “But what if I can’t?” Seota asked, concerned.

  “You will because both Neti and I know you are capable.”

  Seota sat taller at that and looked towards Neti, before answering, “Then I will do it.”

  After their morning meal, Shabaka, Neti, Seota, and several mejay made their way to the craft hall. They were met by one of the junior apprentices at the door, who made to stop them, but on seeing the mejay he moved out of the way.

  Systematically, the mejay moved through the hall and took up their positions at every exit. An occurrence that caused the Master Craftsman to angrily march up to Shabaka and demand, “What is this? Is it not enough that your interference with the workings of his hall slowed the work we do? You now have to interrupt it altogether!”

  Within in moments of his demand, two mejay grabbed him by the arms and the entire hall fell silent.

  “By the order of Ramesses; all the Craft Masters are to be taken to the holding chambers at the palace while their homes are searched. On completion of the search, you will all be questioned.”

  “You have no right to do this!” One of the escorted men exclaimed.

  “Ramesses has ordered it as such,” Shabaka flatly said as the mejay started escorting the men out.

  “On what charge?” Another demanded.

  “The murder of Geris,” Shabaka flatly replied before turning to the remaining occupants in the hall. “The mejay will remain stationed at all the doors,” Shabaka said pointing to Seota. “Seota will remain here to ensure that you continue with your work.” Shabaka turned toward Seota and lowered his head before turning to the mejay. “No one is to leave the hall or their works area, unless it is to eat, drink, or relieve themselves.”

  The men nodded and returned to their positions, periodically glancing over their shoulders.

  It was well into the afternoon before the mejay who were sent to the various homes reported back to Shabaka with their findings.

  Ramesses accompanied Shabaka to the holding cells and firmly instructed the wardens, “Bring them all out and have them line up there against the wall in the whipping yard.”

  One could hear the moans of warning from within the chambers as the eight Craft Masters moved along the passage to eventually line up along the wall.

  Ramesses looked them over before gesturing to the guards do something. Moments later, two guards dragged out a man in ragged clothing. The man threw his weight against them in an attempt to prevent forward movement, however he was no match for the guards’ superior strength. They hauled and held him fast at the whipping post, amid great protest. A third man appeared and fastened the man’s arms and feet into position before they all stepped back. On their departure, a large physique man appeared carrying a whip. He walked purposely to his position before turning to look towards Ramesses.

  Ramesses nodded his head, to which the man lifted his whip, letting it swing several times through the air with a whoosh before bringing it down on the man’s back with a sickening thwack. A painful scream pierced the air. Droplets of blood appeared along the welt left by the whip.

  Shabaka watched the Craft Casters’ reactions.

  Ramesses held up his hand to stop the whipper and turned towards the craft masters. “It appears that there are some among you who enjoy watching as others are being tortured,” Ramesses calmly said, almost too calmly for Shabaka’s liking. “You see that man?” Ramesses asked pointing to the man tied to the post. The men along the wall nodded. “He was caught this morning trying to steal one of my horses. The punishment I have decided on for him is five whip lashes,” Ramesses said and again gestured to the whipper to continue. Again, the whip was whisked through the air and landed with another loud thwack on the man’s back. Again the man screamed in pain. Ramesses made the men watch the remaining of the man’s punishment. On the final lash, the mal lost consciousness, is back dripping with blood as the guards untied him from the post and dragged him back to the chambers.

  Ramesses then turned to the craft masters before he spoke, “I doubt he will try it again.” The men all nodded their heads in agreement.

  “My prefects have informed me that amongst you, there may be one who thinks so highly of himself that he subjects others to the type of punishment that, by law, is only mine to allot.”

  The men looked between each other, however it was the Master Craftsman who spoke, “I don’t think any of the men understand what you mean, my Lord.”

  “Between your men,” Ramesess said angrily. “Is one who thinks he has the right to torture workers… to death?”

  Astonishment was visible on all of the men’s faces with some even shaking their heads.

  The Master Craftsman visibly gathered himself and took a deep breath before speaking, “I fear we do not understand what you mean.”

  Ramessess looked towards Shabaka, who stated, “Geris did not just die; he was tortured to death. He was murdered in the most gruesome way.’

  “But that has nothing to do with us,” one of the men said, quickly lowering his head when the others glared at him in disapproval.

  “You must know something,” Ramesses said. “A reason why someone would want to murder him, possibly even the name of this person”.

  The men remained quiet, almost frozen in place. “You will answer my prefects’ questions or you will receive the same punishment,” Ramesses said, pointing to the post.

  The men looked at the post in horror.

  14

  Chapter Fourteen

  Shabaka looked up from his seat as another of the masters were brought before him. He momentarily glared at the man as he who stood between the two mejay. The man shifted
his weight from one foot to the other as Shabaka silently continued to observe him. Shabaka indicated towards another seat.

  The mejay moved the man towards it before taking their positions on either side of the doorway.

  “It is in your own interest to answer my questions truthfully,” Shabaka started. “Failing to do so could result in punishment issued by the Pharaoh Ramesses.” Shabaka said and then glanced at the scribe before concluding, “Do you understand this?” and looking towards the man.

  The Master Craftsman nodded.

  “Please state your name and area of mastership.” This was requested with a bored tone.

  “But you have met me,” the man said, visibly insulted.

  Shabaka pointed to the scribe, “He is taking record for the pharaoh. Please answer the question.”

  The man looked towards the scribe, then said, “My name is Fartz, I am the glassmaker craft master.” Fartz watched as the scribe noted it down his name and then returned his attention to Shabaka, asking, “Is all this needed?”

  “Yes,” Shabaka flatly answered pausing before he continued. “As the glass craft master, what are your duties?”

  The man looked at Shabaka, apparently confused, however answered the question, “As the glass master, it is my duty to decide which type of glass should be worked. I decide what is added to the glass to alter its color and appearance. It is also my duty to review apprentices and consider new apprenticeships.”

  Shabaka again waited for the scribe to finish before continuing. “How long would you say it takes an apprentice to become proficient?”

  Fartz looked questioningly at Shabaka before replying, “It depends. Some never make it past the furnace stage. They are too clumsy or lack the skill to progress to the finer aspects of handling the glass. While others are only good at making beads.”

  “Let us say the person has the required skills?”

  “It would take approximately three river high tides.”

  “So approximately three wet seasons?” Shabaka asked, and waited for confirmation.

  “Yes” the man nodded. “Why do you ask?”

  “Have you ever purposely used your tools to inflict injury on anyone in the craft hall?”

  “No!” Fartz quickly replied. “What would be the worst possible cruelty if you have ever been burnt by glass? If you had, you would know it is unbearably painful. It singes one’s flesh within seconds. Why ever would you even ask such a thing?”

  Shabaka nodded and then held his hand up to calm the guy while the scribe did his best to note down proceedings.

  “How well did you know Geris?”

  Fartz remained silent for several moments before answering, “I would say no better or worse than anyone else who worked in the craft hall.”

  “But you knew who he was?”

  Fartz smiled warmly before speaking, “It is difficult not to know those who are truly gifted in their craft, even when their craft is not your own.”

  “Do you know of anyone who did not get along with Geris?” Shabaka asked.

  Fartz thought it over for several moments before calmly stating, “The man kept to himself and did not start any arguments with others. He was honest and known by everyone in the hall as such. I could not imagine that anyone would want to harm him.”

  “Have you heard the rumors about gold being stolen?”

  “Ah!” Fartz said dismissively. “We have rumors all the time in the hall. Especially when there has been a change in the way things are done. We previously even had rumors of copper and silver going missing.”

  “So, you do not think they are true?”

  “When one walks through the desert and there appears to be water ahead of you, is it really there or not?”

  Shabaka shook his head and said, “I do not understand.”

  “That is because it is possible for there to be water in the desert, but until you have confirmed it, it does not help to chase it.”

  “I still do not understand.”

  “It means that it is possible for gold to be stolen, but I think the Master Craftsman would have noticed if any had been.”

  “Has any of your craft’s goods disappeared?”

  Fartz shook his head as he stated, “You do not know anything about glass works.”

  “Which is why I asked you.”

  “Glass is a far more difficult craft to master than the others. Glass is not like gold, or iron that can be melted, cast, or beaten into sheets. Glass requires a great deal more skill. One has to know which sand is best for the type of glass you want. How long it needs to be heated, what to add with it, and how fast or slow one should allow it cool. The most difficult aspect of working with glass is ensuring it does not drop off the end of the staff when you are shaping it. So, for every successful object that is made there are often numerous failures. It takes great skill to work glass.”

  “This is why it takes so long to master it,” Shabaka said.

  “Glass making remains the craft that produces the oddest assortments of usable, although strange, containers.”

  “And what do you do with these containers?” Shabaka asked.

  “Well, the Master Craftsman has devised some use for a number of them, but the crafters and I often barter them for some of the other materials we use.”

  “So anyone can barter them from you?”

  “From me, from my craftsmen, yes.”

  “One could consider it stealing from the pharaoh.” Shabaka cautioned.

  “And what are we stealing, heated sand?” Fartz asked. “There are entire deserts of sand in all directions. I could just as easily make these things at home.”

  “Speaking of which,” Shabaka said, reaching down to a crate close to his feet and extracted a glass jar, the top covered with fabric that was held in place with a string. The glass container was about a third full with various herbs. “The guards found this at your home. It appears as if your wife has also found a use for the containers.”

  Fartz reached over and took the glass container from Shabaka and shook the herbs inside and then brought it closer to his nose. He drew in a deep breath and smiled before he spoke, his voice contained a note of fondness. “Rachel, you should meet her sometime. The Gods have truly blessed me with her.” He tipped the container as he continued. “Rachel loves herbs and plants, grows and tends them well. I sometimes think she understands their uses better than most healers.” Fartz handed the container back to Shabaka, “You should keep it. It is the mixture she gives to women who need to produce more milk for their babies.”

  Shabaka looked at the bottle in horror and shook his head, “No thank you!”

  “It is one of the most common and popular mixtures she makes.”

  “And they work?” Shabaka asked, somewhat disbelieving.

  “Yes they do,” Fartz said. “I have seen babies grow fat after their mothers have added the herbs to their food.”

  “So why would she be using the glass containers?”

  “Some time ago, I took some of these jars home with me,” Fartz pointed to the top of the jar. “You will see the top is not even and the one side sags a bit, the glass is also clear on one side and then becomes hazy on the other side.”

  Shabaka watched as the man pointed to the various aspects.

  “My wife, at first, used them to store her dried herbs. She now believes that the glass preserves her herbs better than pots.” Fartz then lowered the glass jar. “But it was by accident that she discovered that as they are most suitable for use with medicinal teas.”

  Shabaka looked at Fartz confused.

  “Because my wife knows plants so well, many seek her advice on matters. And on one particular day, a woman came to her and she had no new goblets as the tea often stained them. My wife made the woman some tea by placing the herbs in one of these and adding the boiling water. When the tea had cooled enough for the woman to drink, my wife noticed that the tea was not altered by the glass and the glass was not stained by the tea. The glass c
ontainer was also easier to clean afterwards. This is why my wife now prepares all her herbs and teas in the glass container. And since we have so many of these containers, she often sends the women home with the herds to make their own tea.”

  “And that was why the guards found this,” Shabaka said pointing to the glass container.

  Fartz nodded, “When we started to make the larger pitchers, there were many, many failed attempts. Every time we changed the sand or the additives it took many tries to get the combinations just right. It was not as simple as making glass beads because glass can still be altered when it is warm. Once it has cooled it is set and it can shatter.”

  “Which is why the failed objects are bartered.” Shabaka said.

  “Glass is a strange object, there is also not a great deal of it, so it appears to some to be of great value. People do not yet understand it so it has a mystery aspect to it as well. I often think the reason most are willing to barter for it is because you can see through it to what it holds inside. This strangeness can be used to impress others.”

  “You will thus barter with anyone who wants it?”

  “Even with my wife’s activities, I do not have use for all the glass containers that we cast out.”

  “Then it is like the Master Craftsman said, people barter for the perceived value of an item.” Shabaka said more to himself and then looked at Fartz. “Your men also do this, the bartering of the glass jars?”

  “They may, but only their own misshapen ones.”

  “I see.” Shabaka said and turned to look at the scribe. “You can read your records back to him and have him sign it. Then once you are done, they can bring in the next one.” Shabaka rose from his seat, “I am going for a short walk.”

  Shabaka returned a short while later only to glare at the Craft Master who sat waiting for him. “That is my seat” Shabaka said and waited for the man to rise, which the man refused.

  Shabaka nodded in understanding and then looked towards the scribe as he said, “Make a note of that.”

  When the scribe started writing, the Craft Master slowly got up from the seat and moved to the other one.