‘The Libyans?’ Qennu asked. ‘What are they plotting?’
‘Oh, I think I now know.’ Amerotke smiled. ‘I see the deviousness of their plan. Is there anything else?’ he asked.
Qennu stared up at the sky.
‘What do you want?’ Amerotke asked.
‘Life,’ Qennu replied. ‘I want to be free of all this.’ He smiled at Amerotke. ‘I came freely…’
‘And you go freely,’ Amerotke replied. ‘One thing: how many people at the Temple of Ptah knew you were friendly with Hutepa, that she was your woman?’
Qennu closed his eyes. ‘Very few,’ he replied. ‘I made no show of it, and nor did she. You know how such relationships are frowned upon. Ah well.’ He gazed up at the sky. ‘You can find me in the Street of Lamps above the sign of the Lantern.’ He stretched out his hand. ‘My lord Amerotke, I have no more to say, but I swear this, I am not responsible for those hideous deaths in the temple or anywhere else. When you decree it, I shall come before you in the Hall of Two Truths and plead my case.’
Amerotke clasped his hand, then Qennu turned and walked away. Amerotke watched him go, certain that his mysterious visitor had spoken with true voice.
* * *
Amerotke spent the rest of day and the following one reflecting on what he had learnt, as well as piecing together the other information Nadif and Shufoy brought in from various parts of the city. On the third day after his mysterious visitor’s appearance, an imperial courier arrived demanding news. Amerotke informed him that he would, if the Divine One decreed, come into the city, but there again, time was pressing, and in the end he had more useful things to do. He hoped to delay informing Hatusu, though he realised that he would have to act soon. Of course Hatusu did not wait. The following morning, just before dawn, Lord Senenmut, escorted by a squadron of imperial chariotry and a file of sweat-soaked Nubian spearmen, arrived outside Amerotke’s house. He let the troops rest in the garden, much to the delight of Ahmase and Curfay, whilst he joined Amerotke on the roof terrace to worship the rising sun, intoning the glorious hymn of praise: ‘All power to you, oh Glorious One, whose true splendour lies hidden beyond the Far Horizon, yet you send your rays to warm the earth and dispel our darkness…’ The two men then broke the first bread of the day. For a while they sat like schoolboys, legs crossed, chewing carefully on honey bread and sipping appreciatively at freshly crushed fruit juice.
‘Very good, Lord Judge.’ At last Senenmut winked at Amerotke. ‘Now the courtesies are over, what have you discovered?’
Amerotke told him about his mysterious visitor, and Senenmut’s jaw dropped in surprise as the judge described in detail what had happened.
‘So you think he is innocent?’ Senenmut asked.
‘Yes, I do, hence his presence here.’
‘Never mind that, never mind that.’ Senenmut waved a hand. ‘I feel like a child,’ he said, ‘presented with an array of dishes. In the end it’s the Libyans who interest me. Murder, Amerotke, is a matter for you. Treason and foreign policy are what concern us. I find it hard to think of the dead Ipuye as a traitor to the Divine House, but there again…’
‘I don’t think he was,’ Amerotke replied. ‘It’s all part of a very subtle game. The Libyans are party to that, deeply involved in their own meddling mischief.’ He swiftly described the conclusions he had reached, and the reasons for them.
‘Very clever.’ Senenmut grinned. ‘Very clever indeed. According to you, the Libyans demanded peace for one simple reason: they wanted to open and develop trade links with the mines in Sinai to amass gold, silver and above all precious stones. They would use these to form an alliance with the Sea People. The Sea People are pirates. They harbour at islands in the Great Green as well as ports further north in Canaan. Some of our enemies there, particularly the Hittites, allow them docking facilities. The Sea People roam the sea looking for land to settle in, and the most fertile is the delta. Because they have no crops, no fields, no cattle, they cannot barter, so they must live and die by the sword. However, once they have precious stones, gold and silver, they can buy supplies and bribe harbourmasters. In other words, they become stronger. The Libyans were plotting to build up their strength in alliance with the Sea People. They would trade with the mines along the Horus Road in Sinai and use the precious stones and metals to cement their friendship with the captains of the Sea People. After a year, maybe two years, a massive fleet would appear off the delta. We’d move troops to counter them. At the same time Naratousha would declare the peace treaty with Egypt broken and send his war parties east to harass towns and villages along the Nile. We would be fighting a war on two fronts, along the Nile and across the delta. What the Libyans are now doing in Thebes is simply sowing a harvest that may take years to flower, but it will be a bloody one!’
‘And their plan was discovered?’
‘Yes, by that merchant – my spy. He reached the oasis and recognised Sea People amongst the Libyans, a rare event even in the ports, but deep in the desert…? The Sea People were there to negotiate as well as to collect the first fruits of Naratousha’s plan. The merchant saw this and escaped. He may have been pursued, but instead of being captured by the Libyans, he was seized by sand-dwellers: the same group who later captured Qennu. The merchant, realising Qennu was a fellow Egyptian, passed his information on. Our squadron chariot ambushed these sand-dwellers; the merchant was killed, Qennu assumed his identity and came back into the city. I suspect he was going to use this information to barter with the Divine One, but when the poisonings began again he watched and waited.’
‘What will the Divine One do now?’
‘As regards Qennu,’ Senenmut spread his hands, ‘you must do what you have to, Lord Judge. I shall instruct the Medjay, the imperial troops, not to mention the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh, to cease their searching. As for the Libyans, the Divine One will invite them to a banquet. She will coax and flatter them. She’ll say the treaty is improperly sealed because of the deaths of those three scribes. Anyway, she’ll announce that she has been reflecting and that she now wants new clauses to be added to the treaty, the most important being that if the Libyans are to become friends of Pharaoh, her enemies must be their enemies.’
‘The Sea People.’ Amerotke smiled. ‘She’ll demand that there be no trade, pact or alliance, written or verbal, between the Libyans and the Sea People.’
‘Precisely,’ Senenmut agreed. ‘She’ll also demand that Naratousha inform her why they need so much gold, silver and precious stones; what are they using it for?’
‘And the Libyan chiefs?’ Amerotke asked.
‘Oh, they’ll be covered in consternation. They’ll mutter their thanks for a splendid banquet and ask for time to reflect. Hatusu will reply that they are her guests. If they wish to stay forty days more in Thebes then they are most welcome. Naratousha will have to agree to that out of courtesy to his host. He’ll then adjourn to his lodgings. He’ll be furious. The Amemets never found the prisoner, and we now know what mischief the Libyans are plotting. Time will pass. Naratousha will claim there’s a crisis at home and demand to leave. Hatusu will agree but will point out that the peace treaty is now suspended until it is sealed properly and includes the extra clauses. She will demand that Themeu be left as a hostage, either to fortune or until we discover the name of the traitor he’s been conspiring with. Of course she will also insist that the Libyans cooperate with us in finding that chariot patrol lost in the western Redlands. I suspect that will keep Naratousha busy for the next two years. He’ll return to the tribes covered in confusion and having lost face. So, the other business?’ Senenmut added quickly. ‘The poisonings?’
‘I don’t know,’ Amerotke replied. ‘So far I have theories, a little proof. In the end I think it will be deceit and cunning that traps the killers. I will summon everyone into my court in the Hall of Two Truths. If Ma’at is with me, the truth will be revealed and the guilty justly punished.’
HRU UTCHA METU: ancient Egyptian, ‘the Da
y of Judgement’
CHAPTER 13
Three days later Amerotke moved to judgement in the Hall of Two Truths in the Temple of Ma’at, the heart of Thebes, the City of the Sceptre. The curious had gathered along the back of the hall wondering what this special session of the court intended. In the mean time they admired the hall’s painted pillars and columns, a swirl of dark green and light blue with golden lotus leaves carved around the base and silver acanthi and purple grapes at the top. They stared across the marble floor, polished and shiny so it seemed people were walking on water; so clear was the reflection that it dazzled like a mirror and caught the flowers, butterflies and birds carved on the ceiling. The Hall of Two Truths was a place of beauty as well as justice. Ma’at, the Goddess of Truth, could be seen everywhere. The wall paintings paid tribute to the many poses and roles ascribed to her: a beautiful young woman, the Divine Princess, either standing alone or kneeling before her father Ra; a judge in the Hall of Weighing-of-the-Souls, alongside the jackal-faced Anubis and the green-skinned Osiris when she and the other Divine Beings assembled to determine a soul’s final fate; a warrior princess smiting the destroyers, the creatures of the Underworld who exalted in such names as Devourer of Faeces, Gobbler of Flesh, Drinker of Blood and Smasher of Bones; holding the Scales of Justice or stretching out the Great Feather of Truth. The paintings had a purpose, not just to praise Ma’at but to remind all who came here that this was a place where Pharaoh dispensed her justice, where the truth was established and proclaimed for all to hear.
In those last few days of Shemshu, the hot season, Amerotke had been preparing to publish certain truths. He sat enthroned on the dark red quilted Chair of Judgement, its acacia-wood arms inlaid with silver and gold, its back rising high above him, a tasselled awning stretching out over his head. The gold fringe depicted a frieze of lunging green cobras, symbols of the defenders of Pharaoh and Egypt. The ends of the arms and the feet of the throne were carved to represent the snarling face of Sekhmet, the Destroyer Goddess.
Amerotke had readied himself very carefully for the occasion. Face and head shaved, he was dressed in his most brilliant gauffered robes with an embroidered sash around his middle. On his chest rested a pectoral of Ma’at made out of exquisite cornelian and other precious stones; on his wrists were the sacred bangles, whilst the jewelled rings on his fingers depicted the holy symbols of the goddess. On the stool next to him lay the flail and rod he would grasp when he dispensed judgement. On the table to his left was a cluster of small scrolls that Prenhoe had prepared, though Amerotke knew all he needed. Now he lifted his hand, a signal for the session to begin. Asural strode forward, lifted the bar to the court and gave it to an assistant, who hurried away. Then he marched on and paused just before Amerotke; knelt, bowed and rose. Walking to the judge’s left, he proclaimed:
‘Behold Chief Judge Amerotke, the Divine One’s own voice in the Hall of Two Truths. What he does is blessed by the gods for the good fortune of the Divine House and the Kingdom of the Two Lands.’ He lifted his right hand, and a trumpet blew a long piercing blast. Then he turned, bowed towards Amerotke and took his position at the back of the court.
On Amerotke’s left, just beneath the large open window, sat a line of scribes on their cushions, small writing tables before them, parchments prepared, quill pens sharpened. Glimpsing Prenhoe’s anxious face, Amerotke smiled, then turned to the right and the colonnaded waiting area where most of those he had summoned should be gathered. He raised his hand, and Asural walked forward.
‘All those summoned here must wait outside.’
Ani, High Priest of Ptah, already furious at being so imperiously summoned, glared in anger at Amerotke.
‘My lord,’ Amerotke soothed, ‘I ask you to wait outside, please.’
Asural was already walking forward with some of the temple guards. Ani gathered his robes about him, hitching the linen shawl around his shoulders, then, followed by Hinqui, Maben and Minnakht, left the court. Once they were gone, Amerotke raised his voice.
‘Only those who seek justice from Pharaoh may stay. Is there anyone here who seeks justice?’
‘I do.’ Qennu, hidden in the shadows, walked forward and knelt on the cushion before Amerotke’s throne.
‘By what name are you called?’ Amerotke asked.
‘I am Qennu,’ the man replied in a powerful voice. ‘Once priest physician at the Temple of Ptah, wrongly accused of poisoning.’ The rest of Qennu’s statement was drowned out by cries and exclamations from the back of the court.
Amerotke had his excuse. He raised a hand.
‘Captain Asural, the court must be cleared of everyone except the guard and scribes; once done, they cannot leave without my permission.’
Qennu remained kneeling on his cushion. Once the court was silent and empty, the captain of the guard brought out a small wooden table on which he placed two jars of kohl, pulling off the stoppers: one green, the other black. Amerotke smiled at Qennu. He had spoken briefly to the former prisoner about what was to happen and warned him not to force matters. He now told him to withdraw deep into the shadowy colonnade. Once Amerotke was ready, he gestured at Asural.
‘Bring in Lord Ani.’
The High Priest entered in a flurry of robes; glaring at Amerotke, he knelt on the cushions before the Chair of Judgement.
‘Lord Ani,’ Amerotke smiled, ‘on the table before you are two pots of kohl, the same used by the three scribes before the ceremony at your temple. I beg you, decorate your eyes with them.’
Ani made to protest.
‘Please,’ Amerotke insisted, ‘at least a little.’
The High Priest shrugged and, using his finger, lifted a generous portion of the perfumed oil and quickly dabbed beneath his eyes.
‘Very good.’ Amerotke indicated a pile of linen napkins. ‘Please clean your hands.’
The ritual was repeated with Hinqui and Maben. Both looked surprised but obeyed. Amerotke tensed as Minnakht swaggered in and took his place. Again the request was made. Amerotke realised Minnakht was too quick witted and cunning not to anticipate a possible trap. The Chief Scribe glanced at his colleagues and stretched out his hand, but then peered at the jars. He appeared more confused than concerned.
‘These are not the same jars; that’s impossible!’
Amerotke closed his eyes. At last! One small lie, one scrap of confusion!
‘Why is it impossible?’ he asked quietly.
‘Yes,’ Lord Ani spoke up. ‘Chief Scribe Minnakht, the kohl pots were not your concern, at least, not their laying out or their taking in.’
‘Because I washed them afterwards.’ Minnakht stumbled from one lie to another.
‘But that wasn’t your task,’ Maben declared.
Minnakht swallowed hard to cover his confusion, then dipped a finger into one of the pots.
‘I remember…’ Hinqui spoke up; he still looked drawn and pale, clutching his stomach. Now he turned on his cushion so as to face Minnakht. ‘On the morning of the ceremony we all came down to collect the three scribes from their waiting chamber in the Chapel of the Divine Infant. My lord Ani, do you remember? We left. Minnakht said he’d dropped something and returned to the chamber.’ Hinqui fluttered his fingers. ‘Something I would not even bother to recall, except that…’ he leaned forward, peering at Minnakht, ‘how can you say these are not the same kohl jars? And why do you claim to have washed them – a temple servant would do such a menial task!’
‘I did not!’ Minnakht now made a bad situation worse. ‘I did not!’ he shouted. ‘I’ve made a mistake. I did not wash them.’
‘Yet you said you did!’ Lord Ani replied.
‘Now,’ Amerotke broke in, ‘when I visited that waiting chamber with you on that same day, those pots were still on the table. What did you do, my lord Minnakht? Did you remove them and wash them; if so, why? If a servant removed them, why were those pots still on that table later in the evening, on the same day those three scribes died?’ Amerotke pressed his po
int. ‘You assured me you never entered the chamber where the three scribes waited for the ceremony. Now you say you did. You dropped something there. You returned to find it. You remember what the jars of kohl looked like. You claim to have washed them.’ He spread his hands. ‘What is the truth of all this?’
Minnakht, now fully flustered, aware of his colleagues staring at him, swallowed hard and sat back on his heels, staring at this hawk-faced judge.
‘What is this?’ Amerotke repeated. ‘Over a matter of small pots. How can you remember so precisely, Lord Minnakht?’
‘Why were you involved with the kohl pots? You had no reason for that.’ Ani, now sensing the turn of events, was openly hostile.
‘Let us move to the heart of the matter,’ Amerotke declared, ‘those eye pots the three scribes used, the green and black kohl. Who was responsible for supplying them?’
‘Minnakht,’ Ani declared. ‘He is Master of the Ritual. He is responsible for the kohl, but he would delegate such a task to the servants, who’d also see to them being later cleared away.’
‘Minnakht,’ Amerotke’s voice was clear and carrying, ‘you are in this court to be accused. I believe you are the Rekhet, and this man…’ Amerotke gestured Qennu out of the shadows on his right. His arrival caused consternation. At first the priests of Ptah failed to recognise him, then Ani half rose but sat down again and bowed towards the judge.
‘What is he doing here?’ Maben shouted.
‘He is the Rekhet!’ Minnakht bawled. ‘Lord Judge, how dare you bring me into this court and accuse me! He is responsible—’
‘How dare I?’ Amerotke shouted back. ‘Because I will soon produce the proof. Now quiet!’ He leaned forward. ‘You are the constant, Minnakht. You, as everyone here knows, sent those pots of kohl for the three scribes to use. By your own admission you later removed them, ostensibly for washing. In truth you replaced them with innocent pots. You came down to collect those three scribes for the ceremony. As the procession gathered you claimed to have dropped something. You went back into that waiting chamber, scooped up those pots and replaced them with others which I myself saw. Hence your confusion today. You know full well the ones that contained the poison were destroyed.’
The Poisoner of Ptah Page 23