Princess of Egypt - A Mystery in Ancient Egypt

by Nathaniel Burns

  There were also slight differences in the forming of the eagles’ wings and feet, the slants over the eye of Ra and the curl under it. They were consistent enough for her to establish that they were written by two different people. She gathered all the sheafs of paper together and placed them on the corner of the platform before returning her attention to the shelves, this time looking over those behind the platform. Within moments she found what she was looking for: a grouping of pots haphazardly placed on the shelf. She turned them, looking for their identifying hieroglyphs, wanting to determine their contents, but they were unmarked. She picked one from the shelf and opened it, immediately recognizing the yellow salt it contained as one of the ingredients listed on the sheet of paper. Pulling the others from the shelf, she opened each in turn, checking and confirming their contents, placing them on the platform behind her before returning her attention to the shelf and going over the remaining contents. Those remaining were neatly organized, and glancing through the shelves she established that this particular segment dealt with foot ailments.

  She shook her head as she turned to the platform, her eyes narrowing somewhat as her gaze landed on a stick of sealing wax that lay on the floor. She bent down to retrieve it, turning it over as she rose before placing it on the platform. Her gaze skittered over the surface, looking for the healer’s seal, but she was unable to find it. She searched the shelves again, this time carefully checking between the jars as well as behind them, but to no avail.

  Concluding that it was not there, she gathered up the sheaf of papers and turned from the platform, returning to the kitchen. There she looked over the surfaces again but found no traces of the seal. Knowing it was not in the bedchamber, she returned to the main living area and proceeded to look for it there. The guards gave her several concerned glances but remained silent as she continued her search. Finding nothing, she indicated to the guards that they were to return to the palace.

  Neti entered the palace, intent on returning to her chamber to peruse the documents she had gathered in silence, when one of the runners came to summon her. She fought to contain the frustrated groan that threatened to erupt from her, that and a biting reprimand, wanting only a few moments of calm to herself. She half listened to the runner’s ramblings and request for her presence somewhere within the palace.

  She followed him as he led her along a series of corridors, certain that she would never learn the layout of the palace. Everything seemed both interconnected and disjointed at the same time, with only the hieroglyphics on the walls changing. The passage the young man was leading her through had no hieroglyphs and was darker than the others, leading her to believe that it was one of the servants’ hallways. He stood before a dark wooden door, one she had never before seen, and knocked on it. Moses opened the door, standing somewhat taller than he had earlier that day, and looked at the servant before seeing Neti. He stood back, inviting her in, and dismissed the messenger.

  “You seem better,” Neti said as he closed the door behind her.

  Neti looked about in concern. The room was darkly lit and had a decidedly masculine scent about it.

  “Yes, thanks,” he replied, turning around and looking at her, his brow furrowing for a moment. “This is Shabaka’s chamber.”

  Neti immediately breathed easier. “Is he?”

  Moses nodded as he replied, “He’s resting at the moment. They brought him to the palace while you were out. I thought you might like to see him; that’s why I had the runner look out for you and bring you round the back.”

  “Thanks,” Neti replied, looking about the room, her gaze finally landing on the divan.

  “The healer said someone is to remain with him throughout the night,” Moses continued, and Neti quickly fixed him with a hard gaze, about to say something, when he quickly added, “He’s out of danger. It’s just to ensure nothing goes wrong.”

  “I see,” Neti nodded in reply. “Can I see him?”

  “Sure. He’s still very stiff and sore. I told him about the salve you gave me, and that it works really well, and that he should try it, but he said I should use it instead. He’ll manage.”

  Neti sighed in response and followed Moses farther into the chamber.

  The scant torches in the chamber cast it in a pale glow but made it possible for her to discern his shape below the sheets on the divan. Looking at him, she mulled over the practicality of their intended trip with the pharaoh in the morning. Wondering whether it would be wise for Shabaka to undergo such a journey in his condition, she knew he would be steadfast, that he would go—because the pharaoh had requested it of him.

  He appeared to be sleeping, the calmness on his face indicating that he was not in as much pain as he had been earlier in the day.

  “The doctor also said to check his bandages later.”

  “I’ll do that,” Neti replied, moving to sit on the edge of the divan, still clutching the sheaf of paper to her chest. She looked him over, careful not to jolt the divan as she placed the sheaf of papers on the floor next to it. “Is he asleep?” she asked, turning to look at Moses only to snap her head back in Shabaka’s direction. Shabaka said, “No, but it’s easier to keep my eyes closed.” His voice was husky, grave from disuse. It had a slight edge to it.

  “I can understand,” Neti said, carefully placing her hand on his shoulder. “Has the healer given you anything for the pain?”

  “Yes,” Shabaka replied, moving around a bit.

  “Good. You must rest,” Neti said, patting his shoulder lightly.

  “I’m not tired. I slept most of the day,” he was quick to counter as she lifted her hand from his shoulder.

  “I didn’t say sleep,” Neti countered, moving her hand down and taking hold of the sheet and lifting it from him.

  His eyes shot open when the sheet lifted from him. “What are you…” he exclaimed, reaching for the sheet and gasping in pain.

  “I was going to check your bandages,” Neti replied, instantly releasing the sheet.

  “Well don’t,” he snapped, causing Neti to glower at him, before she replied, “I think of everyone in this chamber. I am the best qualified to decide whether your bandages are too tight.”

  “You bandage dead bodies,” he countered.

  “And just what is that supposed to mean!” Neti countered, shooting up from the divan, and turning toward him, her heart racing. Her blood rushed through her veins, and she could feel her body temperature rise along with her anger.

  “Nothing, nevermind.”

  “Nevermind!” Neti exclaimed in disbelief. “My friend is injured and I should not mind! Where did you get that?”

  “Don’t you have anything better to do?” he heatedly bit back.

  “Better than looking after a friend?” she threw back, glaring at him.

  “You know, someplace else to be?”

  “You mean other than here!” she bit back.

  “Something like that,” he flung back.

  “In that case,” Neti replied, reaching down to collect the sheaf of papers from the floor, fully intent on leaving him to his pity party.

  “What are those?” he demanded as she righted herself.

  “Papyrus notes I found at the healer’s home,” she countered. “One is a recipe for poison, but then what do you care if we solve any of these murders? You’re home. It’s no inconvenience to you that I’m stuck here until these problems are solved.”

  Shabaka suddenly moved to sit up. “Neti,” he hissed loudly before continuing, falling back onto the divan and gasping in short breaths, pinching his eyes.

  Neti looked at him, a band tightening around her heart. She squared her shoulders and turned from him, only to halt when he spoke through clenched teeth. “You think he was behind the poisoning?”

  “No,” she replied, turning to look at him.

  Her answer made his eyes shoot open, and he turned his head to look at her. “Why do you say that? You found it at his house.”

  “Because it does not
make sense,” Neti countered, turning toward him. “Why would he provide the means to test for poison if he was behind Maathorneferure’s poisoning to start off with?”

  “Because it would make him less of a suspect,” Shabaka replied.

  “It might, but then why was he killed? And why would he have told me about the scroll?”

  Shabaka tried to shake his head, his face contorting as he replied, “I don’t know.”

  “How much do you know about him?” Neti asked, nearing the divan.

  “He has been the pharaoh’s healer for over thirty seasons.”

  Neti settled on the divan before she spoke. “That’s just it. Had he really wanted to poison Maathorneferure, he could have done it at any time. Why now? It does not make any sense.”

  Shabaka remained silent for some time before his gaze met hers and he indicated the sheaf of papers she held, asking, “What are the others?”

  Neti looked at the sheets she held and then looked back at him. “They appear to be records of treatments. I wanted to go through them to confirm whether the doctor had written the note containing the recipe for the poison.”

  “You can do that?” he asked in disbelief.

  Neti nodded in response, smiling in reminiscence as she thought, “Yes, I remember when I was younger Sutan-Anu used to reprimand the boys for having someone else do their work, and it frustrated them that he knew. One day I asked him how he knew. He showed me.” Neti pulled two of the sheets from the pile, the sheet containing the poison and the other one containing the treatments. She placed them where he could see what she meant. “See here, how the curve over the eye of Ra differs as well as the curvature under it? This one is fully curled while the other is more of an upward slash.”

  “How do you know which is the healer’s?”

  “Well, the treatments indicate that this is his. He scribes quite fast, which is why the curls and curves aren’t properly shaped.” She pointed to the other sheet of paper. “Whoever wrote this is a neat scribe, and meticulous. The dashes, curls, and curves are all alike and neatly formed.”

  “Yes, I see. But how does that help us?”

  “If we can find who wrote this, then we will find the person behind the poisoning, and possibly the one who ordered this,” Neti replied, gesturing to his prone form.

  Shabaka frowned at her words before asking, “Someone authorized my attack?”

  Neti nodded as she spoke. “The instruction came from somewhere in the palace; the note had the healer’s seal on it. I couldn’t find his seal when I searched his home. I was going to tell Ramesses and ask him to forbid any runner from conveying a message sealed with it.”

  Shabaka once again remained silent before finally speaking. “There are only a handful of scribes in the palace who would have access to record scrolls. We could ask Ramesses to have them hand in a sheet of their writing, that way you can try to see if you can find a match, possibly even find the one that has the healer’s—” Shabaka’s sentence was cut short as he once again hissed, causing Neti to move quickly away from him and place the sheets of papers with the others on the floor. Turning to look for Moses, she asked, “Is there still some of that ointment I gave you?”

  “Yes,” Moses was quick to reply.

  “Could you go fetch it? And have one of the servants bring me some wrapping stones. I will need quite a few of them.”

  “Wrapping stones?” Moses asked in confusion. “But you told me to use hot water.”

  “The water will have cooled long before they get here with it; the stones remain warm for a lot longer.”

  The young man nodded as he started for the door, his stride still stiff but easier than it had been before. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “What are you doing?” Shabaka again demanded as she pulled the sheet from his upper body, though this time she did not pull back at his demand.

  “Taking care of you,” Neti replied as she moved her hands over his bound ribs, testing the bandages. “You need to sit up so that I can remove these,” she said, fingering the bandages. Shabaka made to object, but Neti quickly countered, “I know I don’t need to, but I want to.” He took a deep breath and sat up, wincing before finally sitting upright.

  “You need to lift your arms a bit to give me space to work,” Neti said, nudging his elbows.

  “What is in that ointment you gave Moses?” Shabaka asked as Neti loosened the first bandage and started to unwind it.

  “It’s a combination of roots that are boiled together, to which bees’ wax is added before letting it cool.”

  “What does it do?” Shabaka asked

  “It helps with muscle aches and bruises. You’ll feel a funny tingling sensation in the affected area, which will increase when heat is applied,” Neti replied as she finished unwinding the first of the bandages around his chest, carefully rerolling it before repeating the process with the next one and placing them neatly together. She went about her work silently and diligently, gasping when she took in the extent of the bruising along his back and sides. Even in the low light she could clearly distinguish the deep, vivid bruises. “Don’t breathe too deep, or it will hurt.”

  Shabaka grunted.

  “Right. You need to lie down on your front so I can start on your back.”

  Shabaka took some time and grunted from the effort it took to move onto his front, finally settling moments before Moses returned to the chamber carrying the pot of ointment.

  Neti took the pot from Moses, lifting a brow at its weight. “You used quite a bit,” she said, pulling off the stopper and looking inside.

  “I didn’t know how much I was supposed to use.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll make more when I get home,” Neti replied, turning her attention to Shabaka just in time to see his body stiffen slightly at her words. She ran her hand lightly over his back, halting momentarily at some of the more obvious bruises, gently prodding them, feeling for the various layers.

  A short while later, one of the servants entered the room carrying a mid-sized earthenware pot with cloths between her hands and the pot’s sides.

  Moses escorted the woman to Neti and helped her settle the pot, which contained several wrapping stones, on the floor near her, placing the wrapping clothes over the pot’s lip. Neti thanked the woman and turned her attention back to Shabaka, collecting up a measure of the ointment from the jar and rubbing it between her hands before smoothing it over his back. She worked it into the bruised areas, careful not to push down too hard, systematically working at it as she would if she were anointing a body. On finishing in that area, she reached for a rag, collecting up the first of the palm-sized wrapping stones and wrapping them in it before placing it over one of the bruises. “Tell me when it gets too hot,” she said as she reached for the next stone, wrapping it and placing it on another bruise. She continued until all of the stones were used and then moved on to other bruises.

  Some time later, she removed all the stones and asked him to turn over so she could work on the front. He turned over, more easily this time, and settled onto his back, only grunting lightly as the bruises made contact with the divan.

  She ran her hand over his chest, examining his injuries again. Her touch was light and featherlike so as not to injure him further. She gathered up some of the ointment after having made her assessment and got to work over his chest, which was less injured than his back and sides.

  Neti watched as her fingers splayed over his ebony skin, registering its warmth and pliancy. She was well used to touching bodies, though their skins were always cold, pale, their muscles hard and unyielding. The pliancy of his muscles fascinated her. The warmth she could feel under her fingertips encouraged her to continue. Her senses focused on how his skin yielded under her touch. A warm, masculine scent rose from him and she took a deep breath, feeling the tension in her body dissipate. It was replaced by a tingling sensation that pricked at her breasts. Her tongue snuck out to wet her suddenly dry lips, and her throat seemed dry, too,
forcing her to swallow repeatedly as a surreal, trance-like sensation came over her body. She did not fully understand it, but she it found immensely pleasurable. Its sudden intensity confused her, the way it seemed to block out everything else around them.

  Her hand halted over his pounding heart. Its beating was faster than she knew it should be. His breathing was also faster, shallower than it should be, and it caused her to shift her gaze to his face. Their gazes met and she immediately pulled back. The dark depths of his eyes held a look she did not understand. It caused an ache to settle low in her belly, which quickly altered to a throbbing twitching deep inside her, one that excited but confused her. Her breasts felt fuller, heavier, their tips rubbing against the soft white cotton of her slip. Her heart thudded loudly in her ears and felt as though it wanted to erupt from her chest. She took a deep breath, causing her lips to part further, darting her tongue out to wet them again. She tilted her head and saw him wet his own lips. She felt the air thicken between them and jumped when she felt his fingers brush against her hip.

  Suddenly, she yanked her hand back as though it had been burned and shook her head to try to dispel the strange feeling that seemed to somehow surround them. Her gaze dropped to the pot next to the divan. With her heart still racing, her fingers still tingling from the contact but feeling cold at the same time, bereft, she reached for one of the stones, wrapped her fingers around it, and gripped it tightly in an attempt to regain her equilibrium.

  She knew what was happening but never thought the lure would be so strong. She had felt it before, with him, when they were in Thebes, though never like this. It confused her and brought to the fore so many contradictory situations. There was Neferronpet and everything that had happened with him, and she knew she should not be touching Shabaka in such a manner, that she should not allow herself to become so aware of him. She did not even know if he would welcome such attentions, though she had heard that most men enjoyed the affections of a woman.