Murder in the Palace: A Nikolas of Kydonia Mystery

by Iain Campbell

  BRONZE AGE

  This series occurs when the civilisations in the eastern Mediterranean were still in the bronze age, but some initial activity with iron was occurring (there is a single and unique iron-bladed knife in the riches recovered from the tomb of Tutankhamen). Bronze made reasonable quality weapons, with the addition of tin and other substances to copper. Egypt would have imported most of its copper and tin from Cyprus, and at this period Egypt ‘shared’ control of the mineral wealth of Cyprus with the Hittites.

  MONEY

  The greatest difficulty in writing this series is that at that time Bronze Age civilisations lacked actual coinage and their civilisations largely operated by barter.

  Egypt had a formal basis to determine what items (from a pair of sandals to a cow) were worth what amount of weight of copper, silver or gold, based on the weight of a seniu or deben. Very large amounts, usually for international trade or gifts, were calculated by ‘talents’ (about 30kg in weight).

  Presumably a restaurant owner wouldn’t want to be paid with a couple of pairs of sandals for a dinner, and it is assumed that payment would made be via copper (or for larger amounts silver or gold) rings or part rings of various weights. A seniu was 1/12 of a deben - 7.6 grams (1/4 oz). a deben was equal to 91 grams (3.2 oz). Both payment and ‘making change’ in the absence of coinage, in a barter-based system, was a general problem worldwide at this time.

  While Egypt was relatively rich in gold (either from its own mines or from Nubia), silver and copper were usually imported as local resources were limited.

  TRADE

  Internal. Most of Egypt’s mineral wealth lay in the south (Upper Egypt), or in remote areas in the eastern desert. Most of the large population lived in the agriculturally rich Delta and Fayum regions in the north, and in towns and villages on the banks of the Nile. The south was rarely self-sufficient in food, so the Nile was used to transport goods (and people) between Upper and Lower Egypt by water.

  International. Egypt almost totally lacked any structural timber, which would have been imported from the area around Lebanon (which would be part of the reason Egypt fought with the Hittites to try to control this then heavily forested area). It is reasonable to assume that Egypt, lacking any timber resources, would have imported both structural timber and charcoal for both commercial and domestic purposes. It also had limited resources of silver and copper, which were imported largely from Cyprus, Canaan and the area at the head of the Red Sea (Taba, Eilat etc).

  In return for Egyptian gold, linen, gems, papyrus and grain etc, and goods passing through Egypt from central Africa, merchants would have traded structural timber and charcoal from Lebanon; silver, copper, tin, wine and timber from Cyprus and Greece; olive oil, honey and wine from Crete; and copper from mines located at the head of the Red Sea.

  Egypt had close trading ties with the Hittites, Nubia, Punt (probably Ethiopia), Greece, Crete, Cyprus etc. Cyprus and the Canaan/ Lebanon were small kingdoms under the influence of one or more of the major Empires. These empires and city-states also relied on trade with Egypt and between themselves, with the Phoenicians being the most intrepid merchants and middle-men, travelling as far as the north and west coasts of Africa, Spain, the Black Sea and possibly as far as southern England.

  Sea voyages were subject to the vagaries of storms and attacks by pirates, such as the Sea People. Land-based caravans were subject to the deprivations of bandits and the payment of official taxes and tolls.

  MAP OF EGYPT

  CHAPTER ONE – MEMPHIS

  Year 52. Month Ipi-Ipi. 3rd Shomu.

  Mid-June 1223 BC

  Nikolas straightened up from his work bench, pushing the mortar and pestle aside. He rubbed his right hand through the close-cropped stubble of his hair, wiped off the sweat glistening on his brow before brushing his palm down the side of the brief loincloth that was his sole clothing. He was twenty-five years old – no longer young but his face, still smooth from his shave a few hours before, was largely unlined. He knew that within a few hours his swarthy features would be sporting the shadow of new growth, and wondered briefly yet again if he should give up the struggle and grow a beard like most of his Cretan forebears. No, just like long hair, a beard would be intolerable in the constant heat of Lower Egypt. If he had to sacrifice his naturally curly dark locks for the comfort of a close-cropped head, there would be no way he could stand having a beard – even a few days of growth was too uncomfortable. Better to continue to visit the barber stall on the street outside each morning.

  Nikolas was a man a little above medium height, of slight build but with muscles kept firm by his visits most mornings to the exercise yard of the local barracks, where he worked out both with the troops and his own guards at weapons drill and wrestling. The physical labour around the warehouse and daily long walks to the Pr-anx, the House of Life temple scriptorium, also helped keep him trim. He stood with his hands on his hips, flexed his back and silently cursed the horse-riding accident as a youth that caused him to stiffen and left him partially lame. His bad back and leg were not usually as painful as this but he had fallen from a step-ladder in the warehouse several days before and aggravated the usual low level of discomfort he suffered from his old injury.

  He sighed as he looked at the long line of sealed jars containing powders of various colours on the shelves above the bench. The air was heavy with the scent of the goods stacked in the warehouse beyond the doorway of the workroom; the sourness of spilt wine mixed with the sweetness of honey and pungent spices. The light in the workroom was quite dim, the wooden shutters of the small windows of the building being closed against the heat outside. Sweat soon began to again trickle down his brow and he again cursed the heat of the early afternoon summer’s day.

  On the workbench stood three crucibles filled with liquid, each being heated by the flame of a small oil-lamp. One, as it bubbled away quietly, gave off noxious fumes that in the close confines of the workroom were giving Nikolas a headache. Using a small mortar and pestle he carefully ground into a fine powder first one and then another dried plant leaf, measuring accurately the powder in minute quantities on a small set of brass scales, before adding them to the third crucible. One by one the resulting decoctions were carefully decanted into small pottery jars and sealed with wooden stoppers and beeswax before being stored on a shelf.

  T T T T

  Unbeknownst to Nikolas, at that same time he was being discussed at the Memphis Royal Palace in the office of imy-xnt per aa Zineb, the Royal Chamberlain. Zineb, a small elderly man thin to the point of emaci-ation, was sitting at his desk reflectively rubbing his large hooked nose. Seated opposite him was another elderly man, thickset with a spreading stomach partially flowing over his starched formal SnDwt kilt. This individual wore a heavy black formal court wig and looked quite uncomfortable in the heat, perspiring freely and mopping frequently at his brow with a piece of linen cloth. Zineb indicated to a hovering servant to pour cups of wine and to then leave. There was a plate of honey-coated pastry delicacies on the table, to which the larger man helped himself, licking his fingers after popping each morsel in his fat mouth.

  After Zineb dismissed the servant he sat back in his chair with a sigh. “So, Khonsirdais, you’ll no doubt have heard of our little problem here this morning?”

  Khonsirdais smiled with faint amusement before dryly replying, “I’ hardly call the death of Ra-em hotep, a royal prince and fourth in line to the throne, ‘a little problem’. I understand that the palace is in uproar and Pharaoh is demanding instant action and the head of the perpetrator. It was poison, I believe,” he continued, popping another pastry in his mouth.

  Zineb’s mouth tightened at the accuracy of Khonsirdais’ information. “Yes. I’m under a certain degree of pressure and Divine Ramesses is not best pleased with events, which is why I’ve asked you for your help.”

  Khonsirdais waved a chubby hand cheerily; after all it was not his problem. “I’ve heard that he’s threatened to have your bal
ls if you don’t do something useful by nightfall, so I would say that does constitute a ‘certain degree of pressure’. But I fail to see what this has to do with me. I’m the imry Pr-anx, Director of the Royal Scriptorium, and hardly suited for any investigation. Anyway, it’s your problem, not mine.”

  Zineb nodded rueful agreement. “True, but you know every senior scribe in the Two Kingdoms. All the best have passed through your Scriptorium at some time, and you’re a renowned teacher,” he said, flattering the larger man. “I’m sure that you can recommend somebody suitable.”

  “Not the secret-police?” queried Khonsirdais.

  Zineb winced. “Please, I want somebody with intelligence, not somebody who is content to earn twenty copper deben a month. Anyway, it needs to be somebody outside the palace.”

  “Do you really want this man to succeed? What qualities are you looking for?” asked Khonsirdais.

  “Well, as to success, depending on what he finds, perhaps a certain degree of… discretion may be needed; perhaps also some degree of… expendability. Somebody intelligent, with a good questioning mind, determined and not easily put off. Preferably with a knowledge of poisons, or alternatively access to a good source of information on that subject. No involvement with palace politics and no preconceived axe to grind; all of which show you why the secret-police would be useless.”

  Khonsirdais smiled again and spread both hands. “You expect me to find this paragon? How long do I have?”

  “Anytime in the next half an hour would be fine,” replied Zineb.

  His face was calm but he was perspiring with tension.

  This time Khonsirdais laughed outright. “You really do expect me to pull your balls off the chopping block for you, don’t you?”

  Khonsirdais rubbed his temples with both palms and his eyes slid out of focus as he thought deeply. “He has to be somebody here in Memphis because of the timeframe, which rules out anybody from Pi-Ramesses or Thebes. Those are the places where some of our best people are. Hmm... does he have to be an Egyptian? I have somebody in mind, but he’s a Greek; he lives down near the docks.”

  “How good is he?” asked Zineb, who by this time would probably have accepted a well-recommended crocodile.

  “He’s good. Speaks pretty good Egyptian; youngish. One of the best minds I’ve come across. Very purposeful and organized. Noble birth, so he’ll fit in with those he’ll be questioning. A bit touchy, though. He’s a pharmacist. He comes up to the Scriptorium on most days and I’ve got to know him quite well. A trustworthy sort of a fellow.”

  “And being a foreigner he’ll have no involvement in local politics, no local favourites and no preconceived ideas. And if necessary he would prove an expendable scapegoat if the investigation fails. I like it! Give me his name and address and I’ll send for him. Thank you for your great assistance, my friend. You may well have saved a part of my anatomy to which I am very attached!” said Zineb, concluding the conversation.

  T T T T

  Nikolas turned as he heard heavy knocking on the street door.

  Moving to the entrance of the workroom he looked across the dimly-lit warehouse with its shuttered high-set window openings, covered with bars against thieves. He gestured to two of the guards standing in the warehouse to open the door and then moved forward as light streamed in, silhouetting six shapes standing at the doorway.

  Nikolas stopped in mid-stride as he saw that several of the figures carried spears, and then indicated to his two other guards that they should also move toward the door; they picked up stone-headed clubs as they went. One of the figures outside stepped in through the doorway, a short and brawny individual with an elaborate headdress. Nikolas recognized his dress as the uniform of an officer of the Pharaoh’s Guard. Two soldiers followed the officer into the room; the others remained outside and turned to face the roadway. They were grizzled veterans, several with battle scars on their arms or torsos, and were well turned out with starched white linen kilts, leather wrist-bracers and leather helmets. The troops’ faces were devoid of expression as their eyes automatically moved to take in the room and identify any threat.

  Feeling somewhat dishevelled and underdressed, Nikolas inclined his head politely and made an expansive gesture of welcome with his right-hand. “How may I be of assistance?”

  “You are Nikolas, the Greek?” demanded the officer. Nikolas again inclined his head politely in agreement. “Dress at once and come with me!” said the officer, jabbing his thumb towards the doorway.

  Nikolas arched one eyebrow in surprise. “Come where, Sir?”

  “The palace,” was the abrupt reply.

  “And am I permitted to know why?”

  “You’ll be told there. I don’t know,” replied the officer impatiently, not used to having his orders questioned.

  “May I bring servants?” asked Nikolas. The officer gave an abrupt nod in reply.

  Rather confused by this staccato and unsatisfactory conversation, Nikolas turned to Amos, the hugely-built Egyptian guard standing to the right of the door, and gave instructions. “Rouse Djedi and three of the off-watch and tell them to be ready. Give these men some beer, and the officer wine.”

  The officer waved his hand in a negative gesture, but Nikolas nodded for Amos to do as instructed and then turned and went up the wooden stairs leading to the living quarters located above the warehouse. In his sleeping-room he quickly slipped on a sober but high-quality Greek-style tunic over his head, strapped on leather sandals, put several rings on his fingers and placed a small leather purse at his belt. He also strapped a small knife to his forearm, the knife in its leather scabbard hidden by the sleeve of his tunic.

  After just a few minutes he hurried down the stairs and saw his servants were ready and that the soldiers looked less officious. He grabbed a walking stick and his broad-brimmed hat from the stand by the doorway, crammed the hat on his head and indicated for the soldiers to lead the way. Nikolas was pleased to see the soldiers preceded him to clear a path through the crowd, rather than following – indicating that despite the peremptoriness of the summons he was to be a guest and not detained. As Nikolas passed through the doorway from the relative darkness of the warehouse into the harsh brightness of the afternoon sun, he squinted his eyes against the intense light reflecting from the dirt road and the whitewashed buildings nearby.

  T T T T

  The soldiers pushed their way roughly through the crowded streets of the city, using the blunt end of their spears where necessary to force a path through the throng, making their way northwards along one of the many roads that ran parallel to the river; Nikolas and his men followed in their wake. Nikolas limped somewhat painfully behind using his walking stick, forcing the soldiers to slow their pace; he was in no hurry.

  Despite the heat the streets were crowded with Egyptians of all classes thronging the thoroughfares. Here and there foreigners, mainly Hittites and Canaanites by their dress and hairstyles, could be seen moving through the crowd. Donkeys, some laden with huge bundles of wares, moved slowly despite beating from their drivers.

  A cacophony of sounds met the ear; the bray and bellow of animals, the rattle of cart wheels and the cries of street vendors joined together with the general hubbub of a great city on the move. Dye shops and tanneries, butcher’s stalls and slaughterhouses crowded the way. The stench of offal, dye-vats, tanneries, sweat and excrement assailed the nostrils. Flies swarmed on fresh animal droppings and rose to torment whatever target they could find, human or animal.

  As they left the factory quarter the streets became less odourous.

  Here weavers, basket-makers, tailors and potters toiled, some in their shops and others seated cross-legged on the edge of the roadway, forming obstacles around which the moving tide of humanity flowed. An occasional jeweller’s stall with armed guards nestled amongst shops offering less luxurious merchandise. Shop owners and hucksters shouted their wares to passers-by; naked children played and shouted; street urchins chased a mongrel dog, throwing
stones and yelling with glee when their aim proved good.

  On one occasion a duck, escaped from some cage and with its wings bound to prevent flight, ran through the crowd being chased by two shouting youths.

  It was the height of the hot season, yet despite the afternoon sun blazing down from a cloudless sky Nikolas didn’t feel particularly uncomfortable as he walked along. It was a dry heat and, apart from where the leather head-band of his hat touched his skin, any perspiration dried instantly.

  Nikolas talked to Djedi as they walked along behind the soldiers. “Tell me, is there something some of our men have been doing I don’t know about, or some problem you’ve been keeping from me?”

  “No problem I know of, Master. The men have only been in the usual trouble; tavern brawls, pregnant servant girls and the like. Nothing to cause us an ‘invitation’ to the palace.”

  More confused than ever Nikolas turned to the large man striding alongside. “Amos? What about you?”

  “Just that fight down at the docks last week. Nobody was killed that I know of. Only a few broken heads. They’d be taking us to the police stationhouse for that, not the palace, and our escort would be Sassa civil police and not Palace Guards. There was that thing last week when Nimlot kicked the crap out of that moneylender who was threatening his brother-in-law. Nothing serious.” He shrugged his huge shoulders. “Beats me... Still, if we were in real trouble these boys,” jerking a thumb at the soldiers who marched on ahead impassively, “wouldn’t just be walking with us. They’d have put the boot in and dragged us there,” he concluded.