The Poisoner of Ptah

by P. C. Doherty

  Amerotke felt the passion in Qennu’s voice. This man was either one of the best liars he’d ever met, or he was telling the truth.

  ‘You took gold, silver and precious jewels from Hutepa’s chamber?’

  ‘Of course, Lord Judge. The imperial troops, the Medjay, the Amemets, the Churat, they are all looking for an escaped criminal, a man with shaggy hair and unkempt beard, burnt dark by the sun, clothed in rags, slinking down the alleyways of the Necropolis. No one spares a second glance for a well-dressed priest physician whose head is shaven, his face oiled. Moreover,’ Qennu shrugged, ‘I did not take anything. Hutepa gave them to me.’ He leaned forward. ‘Amerotke, I have studied you very carefully.’ He laughed. ‘I am sorry about our meeting in the temple. I do trust you. I did then: Hutepa advised me to – she knew of your reputation, as I do now. My trust has deepened. I wish…’ Qennu brought his hands together, ‘I would like nothing more, Lord Judge, than to go in front of you in the Hall of Two Truths and prove my innocence. First I beg you to listen to what I say then allow me to go. If you do that, I swear by all that is holy that I shall return and face you in court, answer your questions and accept whatever verdict you reach. In the mean time I have information which those who live in the Great House would dearly treasure.’

  Amerotke gazed across the garden. Norfret, as if alarmed, had stopped at the doorway to the house and was staring back. He raised a hand and waved. ‘Do you wish anything to eat or drink?’ He gestured at the platter.

  ‘No, Lord Judge, perhaps later. I wish to confess. This is the chapel, you are the Priest of the Ear. Listen to what I have to say.’

  ‘You chose your time well,’ Amerotke declared. ‘Nadif and Shufoy are across the river, searching out more information.’

  ‘Lord Judge, will you listen?’

  Amerotke straightened up. ‘You pose no threat to me or mine?’

  Qennu raised his hands as if taking a solemn oath.

  ‘Very well,’ Amerotke decided. ‘Tell your story.’

  ‘I was born in Thebes, the son of a merchant. I was the only child, and my mother died young. I proved myself to be an ardent scholar. My father doted on me and enrolled me at the Temple of Ptah to study to be a priest physician. I lived a calm, serene life. I excelled at my studies and eventually I was admitted to the House of Life at the Temple of Ptah. I made good friends; High Priest Ani, Hinqui, Maben, Minnakht and Userbati were all my comrades, and I consider them to be so now. I did not marry but formed a deep friendship with the heset Hutepa. She had a marvellous voice,’ he added wistfully, ‘clear and fluted like a nightingale. Oh, she could dance and tease me. I was like one of the birds in your garden. I lived happy and contented. This was about five years ago, when the stories about terrible poisonings in the city had just begun to surface. Now as you know, many people were killed in a variety of horrid ways in Thebes. Some of these poisonings were amongst the high ones; they all had one thing in common: they had recently visited the Temple of Ptah, and their names, or those of their relatives, could be founds in books of offerings or temple lists. The House of Ptah has a reputation for healing. We are not only priests; many of us are physicians. People flock to us with their ailments, and by oath we are obliged to treat even the very poor. We are knowledgeable about medicines. I specialised in ailments of the stomach and the anus. The scandal of the poisonings was a storm that, I thought, had no bearing on me. Eventually, however, suspicions emerged that the Rekhet, whoever he might be, must be a priest physician at the Temple of Ptah. One of our leading practitioners, Userbati, claimed that he suspected what was happening. On that infamous night, just at the beginning of the Inundation, he organised a banquet, inviting me and three others to attend. He wished to discuss his theories before formally approaching High Priest Ani.’

  ‘And who knew about this?’

  ‘Ani, and I suspect his two nephews Maben and Hinqui. Others may have known.’ Qennu smiled. ‘Gossip and rumour are rife amongst temple priests.’

  ‘Did you have any suspicions?’ Amerotke asked.

  ‘Oh, names were bandied about. They even mentioned Ipuye; he was such a powerful patron of the temple, and of course his wife had disappeared.’ Qennu pulled a face. ‘Though of course she hadn’t, had she? The rumours are all over Thebes about her corpse being found under a mound of dirt in Ipuye’s garden.’

  ‘Go on,’ Amerotke urged.

  ‘On the night the banquet was held, I was on my way to it when I received a summons. A small boy came running up to me and told me how, in the House of Twilight, the temple hospital, an old priest was very ill and wished to see me. I never saw that boy again. I never learnt who sent him. When I went to the House of Twilight, I found no such patient. There were other delays. I paused to talk to friends. I went looking for Hutepa. I was about to join my friends at the banquet when I saw guards running. Distraught servants told me that Userbati and three of his comrades had been killed. I made a terrible mistake: I panicked!’

  ‘Why?’ Amerotke asked. ‘If you were innocent?’

  ‘I cannot answer that, Lord Judge: just a premonition of evil? No, no, it was more than that; I told Hutepa the same. It was as if I had been watched, as if someone had been in my lodgings, though at the time I put that down to brooding about the Rekhet and his hideous work. I made a decision. I told Hutepa I would not return to my own chambers but took refuge in the city, in a shabby room above a wine shop in the coppersmiths’ quarter. Hutepa kept me informed. Horrified, I learnt what was happening. My premonitions had been proved right. All four of my comrades had been killed by a deadly poison. The Medjay had raided my chambers and found potions and powders, not to mention wealth I never kept there. Lord Judge, I knew something about poisons, so I was already damned. They also found the curse with Userbati’s name on it, as well as documents in his chamber voicing his suspicions about me. Lord Judge, what could I do? The evidence depicted me as the Rekhet. I was also concerned about Hutepa. I told her that if I was arrested, she might be taken up as an accomplice. I knew a little about the law as well as the temple’s fear of scandal. I decided to plead guilty, to accept life imprisonment in an oasis rather than face execution, because whilst there was life, there was hope. If my case had been tried before you, Lord Judge, what verdict would you have reached despite my protestations of innocence? I used those days to prepare. I slipped from my hiding place. I went to the libraries and studied the maps of the western desert, the location of the prison oases. I also told Hutepa that when I said so, she must inform the Medjay where I was. This would put her above any suspicion.’ He shrugged. ‘The rest you know.’

  ‘No, you tell me.’

  ‘Standard-Bearer Nadif arrested me, directed to my hiding place by Hutepa. I was taken to the temple authorities. I invoked my status as a priest physician and confessed my crime. From the moment those chains were on me, I was determined to escape!’

  ‘Did you … do you,’ Amerotke asked, ‘have any suspicions about who the Rekhet might be?’

  ‘Lord Judge, no, not then and not now, except,’ he sighed, ‘when I was in the prison oasis I met murderers. I heard one of them joke that he just killed for the sheer love of it. I believe the Rekhet was such a one.’

  Amerotke nodded. The Gerh had said something very similar.

  ‘Surely,’ Amerotke measured his words, ‘if Userbati was talking to Lord Ani, organising supper parties for his colleagues, voicing suspicions publicly, he, or others, must have had some firm evidence about the Rekhet?’

  ‘As I’ve said, gossip and rumour. You know temple priests.’ Qennu shrugged. ‘Arrogant, opinionated. Userbati was much worse. A very proud man, a scribe in charge of the water supply to the temple, he was eager for advancement, very ambitious about his own career. Oh, I’ve reflected on him.’ Qennu laughed sharply. ‘He may have learnt something – or he may have simply been exploiting the crisis for his own ambitious ends, to appear important, to enhance his status – but no, he actually told me nothing, not even hi
s suspicions about me. I knew nothing,’ Qennu concluded. ‘And for that I was sent to rot in a prison oasis.’

  ‘Did you escape to clear your name?’ Amerotke asked. ‘Was it a desire for justice or vengeance?’

  ‘Both, I suppose,’ Qennu replied. ‘Before I was arrested, I kissed Hutepa goodbye and told her to act as if she were my enemy. When I returned to Thebes, I discovered that she had been very busy on my behalf. She explained how she had searched the temple archives to discover the location of Huaneka’s tomb and if it held, or once did, the Ari Sapu.’

  ‘But she never went out to the Valley of the Forgotten?’

  ‘She did but found it impassable. She believed the tomb had already been opened, that the Books of Doom had been removed, so what was the use? She certainly had her suspicions. She disliked Maben, found him arrogant and secretive, but apart from him, she voiced no names.’

  ‘And what happened at the prison oasis?’ Amerotke asked.

  ‘A living hell, a fiery chamber from the Underworld. You don’t believe in the gods there, only what you can see, hear, taste and touch. Perhaps if I’d known beforehand, I would have fought for my innocence in any court in Thebes, but by then it was too late. The other inmates did not like me. I’d scarcely arrived when there was an outbreak of dysentery. Of course, the prison authorities were only too pleased to point the finger of suspicion at me and my so-called hideous reputation. The true cause of the outbreak was brackish water and stale food. I truly believed I had been buried alive and forgotten. The prison oasis was visited by sand-dwellers, desert wanderers, traders, merchants, tinkers; the keepers allowed them in. They’d bring goods for sale; sometimes the occasional whore. In my last year, there was a change. At first I thought it was a mistake, but when I crowded around the traders, small parcels were secretly pushed into my hands. On one occasion a battered knife, on others a water bottle, sandals, even a tattered map of the western Redlands. I concluded that someone was trying to help me.’

  ‘Hutepa?’ Amerotke asked.

  ‘I thought it was, but when I came back to Thebes, she declared she hadn’t the means. She could do things in Thebes, but not out in the western desert.’

  ‘And your escape?’

  ‘By then I’d collected a number of items. I waited for my opportunity. An escaped prisoner was brought back and executed. On such an occasion, the Guardian and the rest celebrated. I decided to leave that night. I scaled the palisade and made my way out into the Redlands. The Guardian was arrogant. He always proclaimed how the heat of the day, the freezing cold of the night, the wild animals and the desert wanderers were guard enough, but I had planned well. I had maps. I had studied the stars at the Temple of Ptah; I knew where I was going. I had a water bottle, sandals, a knife, a cloth to protect my head as well as other items. Moreover, I knew it was highly dangerous to move by day – the heat kills you – whilst to be lying in some rocky gulley at night was to attract the night prowlers. So, using the map, I journeyed from one waterhole to another. Of course, sometimes I got lost.’

  ‘So you rested by day and travelled by night?’

  ‘Precisely. I would sleep, eat what little food I had or the oasis could provide, roots, berries anything. If I kept travelling east, eventually I would cross the Tuthmosis Line and reach the outstretches of the Nile.’ He paused. ‘Years of captivity had made me cunning.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘A very simple accident. I reached a small oasis. The well had been dug by Egyptian troops; next to it was a stele boasting about the achievements of some long-forgotten pharaoh. I was exhausted and fell asleep beside it. I woke up to find that sand-dwellers had arrived. They’d pitched camp and simply waited for me to wake. Once I did, I was their prisoner. They were gentle enough, questioning me about where I came from. I told them lies about being a merchant who’d become lost. They nodded solemnly, then talked of how much profit they’d make when they sold me. They dragged me along with them. I was not their only prisoner. At first, I was so angry with myself that I ignored my comrade in distress. He introduced himself as a merchant from Memphis. I could see he was hiding something, and eventually he confessed to what he called his “great secret”. He’d gone out into the western desert not only to trade but to collect information about the Libyan tribes. He was an imperial spy and claimed he’d seen something he would never forget.’

  ‘And?’ Amerotke asked, trying to control his excitement.

  ‘Well, according to this merchant – or spy – he’d arrived at a large oasis far out in the western desert. The Libyans were there, leading chieftains playing host to captains of the Sea People. He recognised them by their feathered headdresses.’

  Amerotke stared in astonishment. Qennu laughed.

  ‘I know what you are thinking, Lord Judge: Sea People, so far south, actually in the desert! We don’t think of them there, do we? According to this merchant, the Libyans were entertaining them lavishly, treating them like honoured guests. Anyway, that was all he saw. He fell under suspicion and was forced to flee. A day later he was captured by the sand-dwellers, nomads roaming the desert looking for any plunder they could find. The merchant proved to be a genial companion; his gossip about Thebes made me homesick. I told him little about myself. Two days later we were ambushed by an Egyptian chariot squadron, reinforced by Nubian archers. During the fight my companion was killed by an arrow straight to the throat. I decided to assume his identity. I took his amulet, scabbard, whatever possessions had been left on him. When the fight was over, I presented myself as a merchant who’d had the misfortune to be captured, hence my appearance.

  ‘Of course, the officers of the chariot squadron were hospitable. They tended my light wounds, gave me bread and wine and brought me back to Thebes. They thought I would go with them to report to their garrison commander, but I slipped away and that was the end it. I was intent on discovering what had happened four years earlier. I returned to the Temple of Ptah; Hutepa was there. We met, we kissed. I was so pleased to see her. She told me the astonishing news that she had not sent anything out to that prison oasis, but had done nothing except search for the Books of Doom. She told me about Huaneka’s grave out in the Valley of the Forgotten. Hutepa,’ Qennu held up a hand to fend off Amerotke’s question, ‘simply wanted to make sense of what had happened, to remove her own doubt and, if she discovered something startling, to petition the Great House.’ He sighed. ‘I was only with her ten days before she was murdered. She sheltered and fed me, brought me fresh clothes, shaved, bathed and anointed me.’ He blinked away the tears. ‘I asked her if she suspected who the true Rekhet might be, but she did not. When I learnt what had happened on the temple forecourt, I realised how truly cunning the killer was. I had escaped and the poisonings had begun again. Lord Judge,’ Qennu paused, as if half listening to the sounds of the two boys still playing in the orchard, ‘you should be flattered. Hutepa advised me to trust you. She said I had to eventually surrender myself to someone in authority, declare my innocence, demand a full investigation. I made love to her the day I met you. She gave me most of her wealth, gold, silver and precious jewels. She had a kind heart. She realised I had to adopt a disguise; become a man of wealthy appearance. She also told me that you were at the temple. I followed you, spoke to you and then disappeared. The following morning I returned pretending to be a pilgrim. It was then I heard the news: Hutepa had been poisoned.’

  ‘Did she suspect anyone?’ Amerotke asked. ‘Anyone at all?’

  ‘No, Lord Judge.’

  ‘Do you suspect anyone of poisoning her?’

  ‘Undoubtedly she was murdered, but by whom…?’

  ‘And Ipuye?’ Amerotke asked. ‘The merchant and his wife found floating face down in their lotus pool?’

  ‘I heard the news. I had few doings with Ipuye, though I did with his first wife. You see,’ Qennu wetted his lips, ‘I was a priest of the Chapel of the Ear. I heard the confessions of pilgrims, visitors to the temple. Lady Patuna was one of these. She claimed sh
e suffered from an illness, some sort of possession.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Amerotke asked.

  ‘She panicked,’ Qennu replied. ‘If she left her house she felt as if she was going to faint; she sweated, she felt frightened. Now and again she forced herself to come to the Temple of Ptah. She confessed her sins and also her deep unhappiness about her husband’s womanising.’

  ‘Did she say with whom?’

  ‘My lord Amerotke,’ Qennu laughed, ‘Ipuye took his pleasures whenever he could.’

  ‘And the lord Hinqui?’ Amerotke asked. ‘You know he fell ill?’

  A shake of the head.

  ‘And the fire at the Temple of Ptah?’

  ‘I tell you this. Before I was arrested, I knew something about poisons. During my years in the oasis, Hutepa, may the Lords of Light accept her ka, also studied poisons very carefully. She told me all sorts of wondrous tales: how different ingredients, powders and elements could mix to form a killing potion, but how to achieve that, you had to make certain purchases, buy the actual ingredients.’

  Amerotke nodded in agreement. The Lady of the Dark had virtually told him the same. Qennu rose to his feet, tightening the sash around his robe.

  ‘The Churat’s men?’ Amerotke asked. ‘You poisoned them?’

  ‘They threatened me. Hutepa had given me some poison; I insisted on that. I was determined not to be taken, and if I was and there was no hope of escape, I wanted to be able to end it all.’

  Amerotke caught his steely determination; he knew that Qennu was resolute in his convictions.

  ‘My lord Amerotke, you will not stop me going?’

  The judge squinted up at this man who had come to him in confidence.

  ‘This must end,’ he declared. ‘One day you must surrender yourself, even if it is for your own safety. You are in great danger, not just from the imperial troops or the Medjay; others search for you.’