The Forest of Myrrh (Imhotep Book 3)

by Jerry Dubs

  Bata laughed. “No, Lord Imhotep. If I hear it from Meryt and from you that is two people.”

  “Yes,” Imhotep agreed patiently, sorry that he had delved into the world of hypotheticals. “But Meryt heard it from me, so really you only heard it from me, just that the second time it was channeled through Meryt.”

  Bata shook his head. “But Meryt wouldn’t tell me if it wasn’t true.”

  Imhotep surrendered and dipped another piece of bread into the honey. As he did, Meryt bit into her onion, releasing the pungent aroma. Imhotep, who didn’t share the ancient Egyptians’ love of onions, popped the bread into his mouth and tried to enjoy its flavor before the fragrance of the onion overpowered the honey.

  Bata rose and brushed his hands. “I have arranged to meet Kanefer’s niece’s husband.” He kissed the top of Meryt’s head. “When I return I promise I will tell you everything.”

  As he disappeared through the doorway, Imhotep said to Meryt, “And I will meet with Governor Threshen this afternoon and when I return I will tell you everything, too. Because,” he stood and kissed Meryt's cheek, holding his breath to avoid inhaling the aroma of the onion, “then we will have solved this mystery.”

  - 0 -

  Bata bit hard against the gag in his mouth and shut his eyes to the pain. Eyes closed, he tried to focus on the cold stone that pressed against his arms and chest.

  The knotted ends of the lash cut into his back again. Involuntarily he arched against the stone pillar. Opening his eyes, he thought he saw movement in the shadows beyond the reach of the torchlight. He squinted, trying to see into the darkness, trying to focus on something other than the sting of the whip.

  As the whip struck again he saw the shadowy figure jerk, its dim outline strange and deformed. The hunchback, he thought, his spirits sinking.

  He had arrived at the palace and met Nekaure, the guard who was married to Kanefer’s niece. Nervous, his eyes unable to meet Bata’s, Nekaure had led him through a back entrance and, as soon as they entered the palace, men had seized Bata. As he had fought back to free himself, he had felt a powerful crack on his head. Sputtering awake when water was thrown on his face, he had found himself pressed against a stone pillar.

  His arms were stretched around the pillar and tied at the wrists. He had worked himself to his feet, the side of his face scratching against the stone as he moved. “Where am I? Nekaure, where are you?”

  And then the whip had torn into his back. When he had screamed, rough hands tied a rag around his face to muffle him.

  “First we will teach you authority,” a voice behind him said. “Then you will answer my questions.”

  The whip struck again.

  - 0 -

  Imhotep walked through Ineb-Hedj to the governor’s palace alone, eager to solve at least this one problem. To his surprise he found his step lighter and a measure of calm began to take root within.

  It was just after noon and the sun felt closer than ever, the heat sizzling on his skin. To her delight, he had asked Meryt to shave him and apply makeup to his eyes and lips. He was wearing his beaded menat with the ankh that symbolized his office and a bleached kilt trimmed in blue. He had even slipped a gold band on his right arm.

  He had instructed Kewab to send soldiers with Akila and Hapu and was pleasantly surprised at the soldier's easy agreement.

  I am vizier, he thought.

  He leaned forward, carrying his staff more than using it, ready to impress Governor Threshen.

  - 0 -

  “Governor Threshen,” the guard said hesitantly.

  “What?” Governor Threshen said, turning from the column where Bata, now unconscious, was slumped to the ground, his back scored with bleeding cuts from Threshen’s whip.

  “Lord Imhotep is here.”

  “Are the hyenas still tied in the audience chamber?” Threshen demanded.

  “Yes, Governor Threshen,” the guard answered, his eyes taking in the bloody tips of the whip and Bata’s abused back.

  “Take Imhotep there,” Governor Threshen ordered. He stepped to Bata and leaned down to talk into his unconscious ear.

  “When I return you will answer my questions and then I shall cut off your manhood and send you back to your Lord Imhotep so he will know that I have nothing to fear from him or his king.”

  - 0 -

  A guard, his face glistening with grease from a recent meal, escorted Imhotep down a dimly lit corridor that widened awkwardly and ended at the entrance to Governor Threshen’s audience chamber.

  Hallways in the royal palace in Waset had been filled with torches and lamps. The rooms had windows that overlooked the royal gardens behind the palace. The walls were covered with murals and standing screens were painted with scenes that depicted the king in battle, the king receiving blessings from the gods, the king hunting, the king being entertained by dancers. The air was filled with incense and perfumes fighting the heavy fragrance of yeasty bread, for the royal bakery sat outside the council room.

  But in this room before him the windows were curtained and only two torches by the raised throne had been lit. Imhotep felt surrounded by darkness and an acrid smell that made him shiver as he remembered Merneith squatting beside him so many years ago and unleashing a sour stream of urine by his head.

  Suddenly he found that he was gripping his staff so hard that his hand was cramping.

  The guard stopped outside the audience chamber and nodded for Imhotep to enter.

  As Imhotep entered the dimly lit room someone began to laugh, then another joined in, but the laughter was strange, a fast, mindless chortle that abruptly erupted into a scream. Imhotep halted and stared toward the sound, and then as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw them – two hyenas, tethered to wooden posts, straining at the ropes as they barked their strange call at him.

  The animals’ claws scratched across the stone floor as they struggled to get at Imhotep. Their fur stood upright on their high shoulders and their upper lips curled back as they screamed.

  Imhotep gripped his staff with both hands and started to back away.

  “I am training them,” Governor Threshen said, emerging from the shadows behind Imhotep. He was carrying a dead goose in one hand and a short whip made of braided snakeskin in the other hand. The tip of the whip was red with fresh blood.

  Surprised, Imhotep stumbled away from Threshen and then braced himself against the wall. So much for a regal bearing, he thought.

  Threshen tossed the goose at the hyenas and watched with delight as they tore it apart.

  “My father taught me how to train animals. In one hand you carry a whip, in the other meat,” Threshen said, watching the hyenas as they fought over the meat. Feathers, red with blood, scuttled across the floor and the animals growled as they worked. Finally tearing the bird apart, each hyena carried its share of the meat as far as it could from the other.

  Threshen flicked his whip, slowly turning his eyes to Imhotep.

  “What goads you Lord Imhotep? Is it the fear of the whip or the hunger for reward?”

  “I serve the king,” Imhotep answered. Forcing himself to be calm, he said, “I serve the Two Lands and I honor ma’at. Which is why I am here, Governor Threshen. I am investigating the death of the Voice of Re.”

  As Threshen flicked the whip again Imhotep saw the flash of jewelry. There were rings on each of the governor’s fingers, bracelets of gold and silver filled his forearms and among them, Inhotep saw, was a darker, beaded bracelet made of sky stones.

  “Yes, Hetephernebti.” Governor Threshen leaned against a pillar and watched the hyenas eat. “She was once so high and then she fell and now she is gone.”

  “She was sister to King Djoser, Voice of Re and a good friend of mine,” Imhotep said, growing angry. Behind him the hyenas growled as they ate. “I was told that you were in Iunu when Hetephernebti died,” Imhotep said as Governor Threshen ignored him.

  “I think it is more important to think about where the king is, not where I was.
He has been gone a long time, don’t you think? And there are rumors that his army is evaporating, like water in a pot left in the desert sun,” Threshen said, smiling at Imhotep as he walked toward the hyenas. The animals barked their laughing yelps and backed away from him.

  Watching the hyenas, who slunk away, pulling on their ropes to keep distance between themselves and the whip, Governor Threshen said, “Unlike your king, I am here, Lord Imhotep.” He walked past the cowering hyenas, his whip hand raised and bent by the post to untie the tether.

  “Where I am, the king is,” Imhotep said with as much confidence as he could find, wondering if Threshen had heard news of King Huni or if he was simply repeating rumors.

  “Of course, of course,” Governor Threshen said, “you represent the king.” He looked at the hyenas. “What do you think, Lord Imhotep, emissary of King Huni, were I to loose these hyenas, do you think they would cower from you because you represent the king? Or do you think they would pounce on you and tear the flesh from your bones?”

  Suddenly he dropped the ropes and the hyenas sprang toward Imhotep.

  Stumbling backward, his staff raised like a baseball bat, Imhotep fell against the wall. As the hyenas attacked, Imhotep saw a shadow move behind the throne’s dais, a person, but misshapen or cowering, he thought. The hyenas barked their strange laugh and then they stopped, as the shadow emerged from behind the throne and grabbed the ends of the tethers.

  Imhotep gasped as he saw his savior, a man with muscled legs, thick arms, and rounded shoulders that shielded a hump that rose from his back.

  Panicked by the animals, frightened by Governor Threshen’s lack of fear of the king and alarmed by the sight of the hunchback, Imhotep ran from the room. Behind him the hyenas howled and Governor Threshen laughed with them.

  Revolt

  Out of breath, his right knee threatening to buckle with each step and his side aching, Imhotep staggered down the road to his house.

  His right leg suddenly knotted in a cramp and Imhotep hopped over to lean against the split trunk of a doom palm. As he bent to massage his leg something struck his back. Gasping, he started to turn and then saw one of the dark, misshapen, apple-size fruits from the tree roll across the road.

  He sighed at his fright and then looked up the road. He could see his house, just a little farther down the street, which was eerily quiet. No neighbors were out, no children playing, no animals making noise.

  “Bata,” he shouted and then, gripping his staff, he looked down the road he had just traveled, worried that Threshen and the hyenas were running after him.

  Something is terribly wrong, he thought. Even General Khaba and Merneith had treated me with respect up until the moment when they had seized the throne from King Sekhemkhet. No one is beyond the reach of the king.

  Unless the king is dead.

  “Bata,” he called again. He saw a figure emerge from his house. Meryt. He suddenly remembered that he had just allowed Hapu and Akila to leave Ineb-Hedj. They were beyond his protection.

  Then he thought of the hyenas, their fetid breath, their misshapen backs and matted fur.

  What protection can I offer?

  Pushing himself away from the tree he started to hobble down the street toward his wife. Seeing him moving so slowly, Meryt began to run to him.

  “No, no, don’t run” he shouted, worried about her health. “I’m fine.”

  Suddenly she stopped and bent over.

  “No,” Imhotep shouted and began a slow, dragging jog to her.

  When he reached her she was coughing. No, he thought. In the flurry of worry over her knife wound he had forgotten about her persistent cough.

  She straightened, wiped her mouth and smiled up at Imhotep. He looked at her carefully, saw no signs of bloody sputum and then pulled her close. Her head was moist and hot.

  It is just the running, he told himself.

  “What happened?” Meryt asked.

  “Something is wrong,” he said softly to her. “Governor Threshen threatened me. We need to send Bata after Kewab and then find Hapu and Akila.”

  “Bata hasn’t returned,” Meryt said. “What did Governor Threshen do?”

  “He has two hyenas and he turned them loose on me.”

  “Are you injured?” Meryt asked, pulling away and looking at Imhotep, searching for blood or bites.

  “No, no, I got away safely. But,” he looked over his shoulder once more, “I don’t think he’d do anything in public.” Then seeing the empty street he asked, “Where is everyone?”

  Before she could answer, Imhotep heard the sound of running feet. Clutching Meryt tightly, he turned to the sound. Kewab and four soldiers were running up the street. Their faces masks of concentration, they were carrying thick-shafted battle spears.

  When they reached Imhotep and Meryt, two of the soldiers ran ahead to Imhotep’s house and took up guard positions. The other soldiers stopped a few steps before Imhotep and turned to watch the street behind them.

  “Imhotep, Meryt,” Kewab said, breathing heavily, “Gather your family. We must leave immediately.”

  - 0 -

  As Imhotep and Meryt packed some gold, food and clothing, Kewab told them that a messenger had arrived from King Huni.

  “We are to return to Waset, traveling as quickly as we can on the river. If the king is in Waset, we will join him. If not, we are to continue upriver until we meet him,” Kewab said.

  Imhotep nodded impatiently.

  “Yes, Kewab, but we must find Bata and then,” he held up a hand to prevent Kewab from interrupting, “we must find Hapu and Akila.”

  Kewab thought for a moment. “Hapu and Akila are upriver. We can gather them as we travel. Where is Bata?”

  “He went to the palace this morning. He should have returned by now,” Imhotep said. Suddenly he remembered Threshen’s sneer and the bloody whip he carried.

  “Please, Kewab,” Imhotep said, “bring two of your men and come with me. I’m certain that Threshen has taken Bata captive.”

  “Why would he do that?” Kewab asked.

  Imhotep looked at the soldier’s puzzled face. He thought of Hetephernebti’s death and the king’s suspicion that it was the harbinger of dissolution. He thought of the strange quiet in the town and the unsettling rumors and now, the king’s command that they become refugees and flee their homes. And he thought of Bata, his foreboding dream and his insistence that the temple girl – what was her name? – was in danger.

  Bata has sensed it all along, Imhotep thought. I’ve been worried about Meryt and Akila. I’ve been concerned about my leg and my strength. But Bata has felt the approaching storm and he has been reaching out to the lost little girl, trying to save one soul.

  Imhotep shook his head. It was all so clear. Threshen’s attitude, the fleeing people, the king’s order. Ma’at was being torn apart.

  The Lower House was in revolt.

  And Threshen is leading it.

  He gripped Kewab’s arm. “Has the militia from White Wall returned?” he asked.

  Kewab shook his head. “I have not heard that it has.”

  “Good, then we might be able to save Bata. Please, Kewab, we must hurry. It isn’t just Bata we are trying to save, it is the Two Lands.”

  Hyenas

  The hyenas turned toward Sabni as he pulled on the ropes. Before the beasts could reach him Governor Threshen stepped between his older brother and the animals and snapped his whip at them.

  “Your heart is too big,” Governor Threshen said with disgust. “Tie them,” he said nodding at the hyenas. “I want to finish my business with Imhotep’s servant.”

  Sabni rose from the post and skirted away from the hyenas.

  “And then?” Sabni asked.

  “Our militia will be here tomorrow. Not just ours, but those from all of the nomes of the Lower House. Then I will deal with Imhotep.”

  “The king’s army will still be larger,” Sabni said, always thinking beyond the moment.

  When h
e had watched his little brother suffer at their father’s hands he had learned patience as he waited for the opportunity to free Threshen from the abuse. When Threshen had claimed their father’s throne, Sabni hadn’t cared, he was used to living in the shadows.

  His patience had served him well during the past three years as he quietly governed the nome in Threshen’s name while his brother indulged in food, jewelry and girls. Sabni didn’t mind, he had seen his brother suffer for many years.

  Now he protected Threshen from the consequences of his own actions, smoothing the feelings of abused scribes, making secret payments to families of girls discarded by Threshen, and, most recently, rescuing little Tarset so that she wouldn’t tell anyone about Hetephernebti.

  He had always felt protective. Of his brother, of his mother, who suffered a different abuse from their father, of injured birds, of wounded dogs, of mistreated girls and, just a few minutes ago, of Imhotep’s innocent servant.

  As soon as Threshen had left, Sabni had untied and revived Bata and instructed Tarset to help him escape the palace.

  “No, the king’s army will be smaller,” Threshen argued now. “We are not gathering just the companies that were sent to Waset, Sabni, we also have militas from the nomes, men who were withheld from the king’s demands. Our army will be twice the size of the king’s.”

  Sabni nodded and moved in front of his brother, trying to buy Tarset time to help Bata, who could barely walk, from the grounds.

  “But what of Imhotep? He has some of the king’s men with him now here in Ineb-Hedj,” he said.

  Threshen laughed. “Did you see him scurry out of here?”

  “Yes, brother, but once home, with the king’s guards, he will regain his courage.”

  Threshen waved his hand. “A few men.”