Death Comes As the End

by Christie, Agatha

  Renisenb laughed.

  ‘Poor Yahmose! He works hard enough, I am sure.’

  Her father’s exhortations had brought him vividly before her eyes–his pompous, slightly fussy manner, his continual exhortations and instructions.

  Hori went on:

  ‘Take great care of my son Ipy. I hear he is discontented. Also see that Satipy treats Henet well. Mind this. Do not fail to write about the flax and the oil. Guard the produce of my grain–guard everything of mine, for I shall hold you responsible. If my land floods, woe to you and Sobek.’

  ‘My father is just the same,’ said Renisenb happily. ‘Always thinking that nothing can be done right if he is not here.’

  She let the roll of papyrus slip and added softly:

  ‘Everything is just the same…’

  Hori did not answer.

  He took up a sheet of papyrus and began to write. Renisenb watched him lazily for some time. She felt too contented to speak.

  By and by she said dreamily:

  ‘It would be interesting to know how to write on papyrus. Why doesn’t everyone learn?’

  ‘It is not necessary.’

  ‘Not necessary, perhaps, but it would be pleasant.’

  ‘You think so, Renisenb? What difference would it make to you?’

  Renisenb slowly considered for a moment or two. Then she said slowly:

  ‘When you ask me like that, truly I do not know, Hori.’

  Hori said, ‘At present a few scribes are all that are needed on a large estate, but the day will come, I fancy, when there will be armies of scribes all over Egypt.’

  ‘That will be a good thing,’ said Renisenb.

  Hori said slowly: ‘I am not so sure.’

  ‘Why are you not sure?’

  ‘Because, Renisenb, it is so easy and it costs so little labour to write down ten bushels of barley, or a hundred head of cattle, or ten fields of spelt–and the thing that is written will come to seem like the real thing, and so the writer and the scribe will come to despise the man who ploughs the fields and reaps the barley and raises the cattle–but all the same the fields and the cattle are real–they are not just marks of ink on papyrus. And when all the records and all the papyrus rolls are destroyed and the scribes are scattered, the men who toil and reap will go on, and Egypt will still live.’

  Renisenb looked at him attentively. She said slowly: ‘Yes, I see what you mean. Only the things that you can see and touch and eat are real…To write down “I have two hundred and forty bushels of barley” means nothing unless you have the barley. One could write down lies.’

  Hori smiled at her serious face. Renisenb said suddenly: ‘You mended my lion for me–long ago, do you remember?’

  ‘Yes, I remember, Renisenb.’

  ‘Teti is playing with it now…It is the same lion.’

  She paused and then said simply:

  ‘When Khay went to Osiris I was very sad. But now I have come home and I shall be happy again and forget–for everything here is the same. Nothing is changed at all.’

  ‘You really think that?’

  Renisenb looked at him sharply.

  ‘What do you mean, Hori?’

  ‘I mean there is always change. Eight years is eight years.’

  ‘Nothing changes here,’ said Renisenb with confidence.

  ‘Perhaps then, there should be change.’

  Renisenb said sharply:

  ‘No, no, I want everything the same!’

  ‘But you yourself are not the same Renisenb who went away with Khay.’

  ‘Yes I am! Or if not, then I soon shall be again.’

  Hori shook his head.

  ‘You cannot go back, Renisenb. It is like my measures here. I take half and add to it a quarter, and then a tenth and then a twenty-fourth–and at the end, you see, it is a different quantity altogether.’

  ‘But I am just Renisenb.’

  ‘But Renisenb has something added to her all the time, so she becomes all the time a different Renisenb!’

  ‘No, no. You are the same Hori.’

  ‘You may think so, but it is not so.’

  ‘Yes, yes, and Yahmose is the same, so worried and so anxious, and Satipy bullies him just the same, and she and Kait were having their usual quarrel about mats or beads, and presently when I go back they will be laughing together, the best of friends, and Henet still creeps about and listens and whines about her devotion, and my grandmother was fussing with her little maid over some linen! It was all the same, and presently my father will come home and there will be a great fuss, and he will say “why have you not done this?” and “you should have done that,” and Yahmose will look worried and Sobek will laugh and be insolent about it, and my father will spoil Ipy who is sixteen just as he used to spoil him when he was eight, and nothing will be different at all!’ She paused, breathless.

  Hori sighed. Then he said gently:

  ‘You do not understand, Renisenb. There is an evil that comes from outside, that attacks so that all the world can see, but there is another kind of rottenness that breeds from within–that shows no outward sign. It grows slowly, day by day, till at last the whole fruit is rotten–eaten away by disease.’

  Renisenb stared at him. He had spoken almost absently, not as though he were speaking to her, but more like a man who muses to himself.

  She cried out sharply:

  ‘What do you mean, Hori? You make me afraid.’

  ‘I am afraid myself.’

  ‘But what do you mean? What is this evil you talk about?’

  He looked at her then, and suddenly smiled.

  ‘Forget what I said, Renisenb. I was thinking of the diseases that attack the crops.’

  Renisenb sighed in relief.

  ‘I’m glad. I thought–I don’t know what I thought.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  THIRD MONTH OF INUNDATION 4TH DAY

  Satipy was talking to Yahmose. Her voice had a high strident note that seldom varied its tone.

  ‘You must assert yourself. That is what I say! You will never be valued unless you assert yourself. Your father says this must be done and that must be done and why have you not done the others? And you listen meekly and reply yes, yes, and excuse yourself for the things that he says should have been done–and which, the Gods know, have often been quite impossible! Your father treats you as a child–as a young, irresponsible boy! You might be the age of Ipy.’

  Yahmose said quietly:

  ‘My father does not treat me in the least as he treats Ipy.’

  ‘No indeed.’ Satipy fell upon the new subject with renewed venom. ‘He is foolish about that spoiled brat! Day by day Ipy gets more impossible. He swaggers round and does no work that he can help and pretends that anything that is asked of him is too hard for him! It is a disgrace. And all because he knows that your father will always indulge him and take his part. You and Sobek should take a strong line about it.’

  Yahmose shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘What is the good?’

  ‘You drive me mad, Yahmose–that is so like you! You have no spirit. You’re as meek as a woman! Everything that your father says you agree with at once!’

  ‘I have a great affection for my father.’

  ‘Yes, and he trades on that! You go on meekly accepting blame and excusing yourself for things that are no fault of yours! You should speak up and answer him back as Sobek does. Sobek is afraid of nobody!’

  ‘Yes, but remember, Satipy, that it is I who am trusted by my father, not Sobek. My father reposes no confidence in Sobek. Everything is always left to my judgement, not his.’

  ‘And that is why you should be definitely associated as a partner in the estate! You represent your father when he is away, you act as ka-priest in his absence, everything is left in your hands–and yet you have no recognized authority. There should be a proper settlement. You are now a man of nearly middle age. It’s not right that you should be treated still as a child.’

  Yahmose said
doubtfully:

  ‘My father likes to keep things in his own hands.’

  ‘Exactly. It pleases him that everyone in the household should be dependent upon him–and upon his whim of the moment. It is bad, that, and it will get worse. This time when he comes home you must tackle him boldly–you must say that you demand a settlement in writing, that you insist on having a regularized position.’

  ‘He would not listen.’

  ‘Then you must make him listen. Oh that I were a man! If I were in your place I would know what to do! Sometimes I feel that I am married to a worm.’

  Yahmose flushed.

  ‘I will see what I can do–I might, yes, I might perhaps speak to my father–ask him–’

  ‘Not ask–you must demand! After all, you have the whiphand of him. There is no one but you whom he can leave in charge here. Sobek is too wild, your father does not trust him, and Ipy is too young.’

  ‘There is always Hori.’

  ‘Hori is not a member of the family. Your father relies on his judgement, but he would not leave authority except in the hands of his own kin. But I see how it is; you are too meek and mild–and there is milk in your veins, not blood! You don’t consider me, or our children. Not till your father is dead shall we ever have our proper position.’

  Yahmose said heavily:

  ‘You despise me, don’t you, Satipy?’

  ‘You make me angry.’

  ‘Listen, I tell you that I will speak to my father when he comes. There, it is a promise.’

  Satipy murmured under her breath:

  ‘Yes–but how will you speak? Like a man–or like a mouse?’

  II

  Kait was playing with her youngest child, little Ankh. The baby was just beginning to walk and Kait encouraged her with laughing words, kneeling in front of her and waiting with outstretched arms until the child lurched precariously forward and toddled on uncertain feet into her mother’s arms.

  Kait had been displaying these accomplishments to Sobek, but she realized suddenly that he was not attending, but was sitting with his handsome forehead furrowed into a frown.

  ‘Oh, Sobek–you were not looking. You do not see. Little one, tell your father he is naughty not to watch you.’

  Sobek said irritably:

  ‘I have other things to think of–yes, and worry about.’

  Kait leaned back on her heels, smoothing her hair back from her heavy dark brows where Ankh’s fingers had clutched it.

  ‘Why? Is there something wrong?’

  Kait spoke without quite giving all her attention. The question was more than half mechanical.

  Sobek said angrily:

  ‘The trouble is that I am not trusted. My father is an old man, absurdly old-fashioned in his ideas, and he insists on dictating every single action here–he will not leave things to my judgement.’

  Kait shook her head and murmured vaguely:

  ‘Yes, yes, it is too bad.’

  ‘If only Yahmose had a little more spirit and would back me up there might be some hope of making my father see reason. But Yahmose is so timid. He carries out every single instruction my father gives him to the letter.’

  Kait jingled some beads at the child and murmured:

  ‘Yes, that is true.’

  ‘In this matter of the timber I shall tell my father when he comes that I used my judgement. It was far better to take the price in flax and not in oil.’

  ‘I am sure you are right.’

  ‘But my father is as obstinate over having his own way as anyone can be. He will make an outcry, will shout out, “I told you to transact the business in oil. Everything is done wrong when I am not here. You are a foolish boy who knows nothing!” How old does he think I am? He doesn’t realize that I am now a man in my prime and he is past his. His instructions and his refusals to sanction any unusual transactions mean that we do not do nearly as good business as we might do. To attain riches it is necessary to take a few risks. I have vision and courage. My father has neither.’

  Her eyes on the child, Kait murmured softly:

  ‘You are so bold and so clever, Sobek.’

  ‘But he shall hear some truths this time if he dares to find fault and shout abuse at me! Unless I am given a free hand I shall leave. I shall go away.’

  Kait, her hand stretched out to the child, turned her head sharply, the gesture arrested.

  ‘Go away? Where would you go?’

  ‘Somewhere! It is insupportable to be bullied and nagged at by a fussy, self-important old man who gives me no scope at all to show what I can do.’

  ‘No,’ said Kait sharply. ‘I say no, Sobek.’

  He stared at her, recalled by her tone into noticing her presence. He was so used to her as a merely soothing accompaniment to his talks that he often forgot her existence as a living, thinking, human woman.

  ‘What do you mean, Kait?’

  ‘I mean that I will not let you be foolish. All the estate belongs to your father, the lands, the cultivation, the cattle, the timber, the fields of flax–all! When your father dies it will be ours–yours and Yahmose’s and our children’s. If you quarrel with your father and go off, then he may divide your share between Yahmose and Ipy–already he loves Ipy too much. Ipy knows that and trades on it. You must not play into the hands of Ipy. It would suit him only too well if you were to quarrel with Imhotep and go away. We have our children to think of.’

  Sobek stared at her. Then he gave a short surprised laugh.

  ‘A woman is always unexpected. I did not know you had it in you, Kait, to be so fierce.’

  Kait said earnestly:

  ‘Do not quarrel with your father. Do not answer him back. Be wise for a little longer.’

  ‘Perhaps you are right–but this may go on for years. What my father should do is to associate us with him in a partnership.’

  Kait shook her head.

  ‘He will not do that. He likes too much to say that we are all eating his bread, that we are all dependent on him, that without him we should all be nowhere.’

  Sobek looked at her curiously.

  ‘You do not like my father very much, Kait.’

  But Kait had bent once more to the toddling baby.

  ‘Come, sweetheart–see, here is your doll. Come, then–come…’

  Sobek looked down at her black bent head. Then, with a puzzled look, he went out.

  III

  Esa had sent for her grandson Ipy.

  The boy, a handsome, discontented-looking stripling, was standing before her whilst she rated him in a high shrill voice, peering at him out of her dim eyes that were shrewd although they could now see little.

  ‘What is this I hear? You will not do this, and you will not do that? You want to look after the bulls, and you do not like going with Yahmose or seeing to the cultivating? What are things coming to when a child like you says what he will or will not do?’

  Ipy said sullenly:

  ‘I am not a child. I am grown now–and why should I be treated as a child? Put to this work or that with no say of my own and no separate allowance. Given orders all the time by Yahmose. Who does Yahmose think he is?’

  ‘He is your older brother and he is in charge here when my son Imhotep is away.’

  ‘Yahmose is stupid, slow and stupid. I am much cleverer than he is. And Sobek is stupid too for all that he boasts and talks about how clever he is! Already my father has written and has said that I am to do the work that I myself choose–’

  ‘Which is none at all,’ interpolated old Esa.

  ‘And that I am to be given more food and drink, and that if he hears I am discontented and have not been well treated he will be very angry.’

  He smiled as he spoke, a sly upcurving smile.

  ‘You are a spoiled brat,’ said Esa with energy. ‘And I shall tell Imhotep so.’

  ‘No, no, grandmother, you would not do that.’

  His smile changed, it became caressing if slightly impudent.

  ‘You and I, gran
dmother, we have the brains of the family.’

  ‘The impudence of you!’

  ‘My father relies on your judgement–he knows you are wise.’

  ‘That may be–indeed it is so–but I do not need you to tell me so.’

  Ipy laughed.

  ‘You had better be on my side, grandmother.’

  ‘What is this talk of sides?’

  ‘The big brothers are very discontented, don’t you know that? Of course you do. Henet tells you everything. Satipy harangues Yahmose all day and all night whenever she can get hold of him. And Sobek has made a fool of himself over the sale of the timber and is afraid my father will be furious when he finds out. You see, grandmother, in another year or two I shall be associated with my father and he will do everything that I wish.’

  ‘You, the youngest of the family?’

  ‘What does age matter? My father is the one that has the power–and I am the one who knows how to manage my father!’

  ‘This is evil talk,’ said Esa.

  Ipy said softly: ‘You are not a fool, grandmother…You know quite well that my father, in spite of all his big talk, is really a weak man–’

  He stopped abruptly, noting that Esa had shifted her head and was peering over his shoulder. He turned his own head, to find Henet standing close behind him.

  ‘So Imhotep is a weak man?’ said Henet in her soft whining voice. ‘He will not be pleased, I think, to hear that you have said that of him.’

  Ipy gave a quick uneasy laugh.

  ‘But you will not tell him, Henet…Come now, Henet–promise me…Dear Henet…’

  Henet glided towards Esa. She raised her voice with its slightly whining note.

  ‘Of course, I never want to make trouble–you know that…I am devoted to all of you. I never repeat anything unless I think it is my duty…’

  ‘I was teasing grandmother, that was all,’ said Ipy. ‘I shall tell my father so. He will know I could not have said such a thing seriously.’

  He gave Henet a short, sharp nod and went out of the room.

  Henet looked after him and said to Esa:

  ‘A fine boy–a fine, well-grown boy. And how bravely he speaks!’

  Esa said sharply:

  ‘He speaks dangerously. I do not like the ideas he has in his head. My son indulges him too much.’