“You mentioned Nubia,” continued Khui who then paused for several moments, stroking his chin with his left hand in reflection as he gathered his thoughts. Lorentis still held his right hand captive. “Neither myself nor many Egyptians can speak the Nubian tongue. There has been a recent order, perhaps four or five weeks ago, for any native-born Egyptian with knowledge of the Nubian language, or any long-term Nubian mercenary, to report to General Padiamun’s headquarters. I understand that a number did report for service but I paid little attention at the time. Clearly, both from what I know and what you’ve just told me, Padiamun is having discourse with the Nubians outside the officially recognized diplomatic channels, and needed translators.”
Khui again paused thoughtfully and continued to stroke his chin. In an apparent change of topic, he continued, “I have a friend who is a priest in the Temple of Aten the Sun God. He’s an ambitious man. We meet from time to time and he has mentioned… some things that on further reflection together with your information cause me concern. As you know, after the death of Akhenaten the worship of Aten has been persecuted and is now a relatively minor sect.
Maakha, for that is his name, is a man of middling talents, but believes in the service of Aten he can rise to be a big fish in a small pond. He’s described portends that he attributes to the god’s displeasure with what some see as Divine Ramesses single-minded patronage of the priests of Amun. While the portends of which he speaks may be interpreted by his High Priest in a way that favours their interests, I believe that he speaks of what may be widespread discontent amongst the priests of several sects. I’ll speak further with him and see what I can learn.”
“Do you think that I should meet with him?” asked Nikolas.
“No,” replied Khui. “As I said, Maakha is ambitious. When I used the term ‘friend’ I was being over-generous. I would describe him more as an acquaintance or drinking partner. He is not a man I would trust with secrets that he could turn to his own advantage.”
“You mean the man is a snake,” commented Kiya.
Khui smiled and replied, “Perhaps. He’s a man without the courage to act alone and is likely to sneak up behind you, but would be dangerous nevertheless if you should step on him. I would judge it about noon by now. Like all priests he’ll have finished his Offices until tomorrow. It’s not far to the temple complex from here and I’ll go and see if the snake is free to talk. I suggest that I meet with you at Nakhtmin’s house this evening.”
Khui rose elegantly from his chair, nodded to Nikolas and Kiya, looked tenderly at Lorentis and walked out. Kiya smiled wickedly and said teasingly to Lorentis, “Well, you seem to have found the only personable young man in the town. Beware I don’t take him off your hands!” Lorentis smiled complacently, her eyes slightly unfocussed as her thoughts were obviously elsewhere.
Nikolas clapped his hands lightly together to get the ladies’ attention. “Finding Khui was indeed inspired work on your part,” he said to Lorentis. “It’ll be quite late before I can be at your house tonight. I have to meet with Kahun and Pamose at the ‘Black Raven’ first. It would seem to me that we have enough information to return to Ramesses and report. Like a spider’s web, our report is different threads drawn together to make a whole. I don’t believe that a written report or one in the mouth of a messenger will be able to properly convey what we’ve found. The only other thing I could see we could do would be to get confirmation of the size and whereabouts of the army to the south. It would take months before Pamose is able to return and report, and I seriously doubt that we have months before this plot comes to ahead. It would be nice to discover the details of the plot but I think that we’ve done what we can and it’s time to return north to Thebes.”
Nikolas patted Lorentis on the shoulder as he left and promised to be at Nakhtmin’s house by the thirteenth hour.
He and Kiya then returned to the stall in the market and sat for the afternoon under the shade of the fabric awning with Henut and the boy Aapep, sweating in the heat of summer and drinking water and fruit juice that they had providently brought with them; neither liked to waste funds unnecessarily and Kiya treated each seniu as if it were her last. Kiya taught Henut and the boy how to select the best herbs and to grind them in the mortar and pestle. A small charcoal fire was lit in a brazier to boil the ingredients for unguents and potions. Like most illiterate people Henut and the boy needed to be shown each step only once and could recall immediately from memory the sometimes complex mix and proportions of ingredients needed. Nikolas was satisfied that they had chosen well in selecting Henut as the next Wise-Woman for Siptah’s village of Shallal.
In the short time that they had been in Aswan Nikolas had garnered an enviable reputation as a healer and maker of remedies, and Kiya a similar reputation as a worker of magic. Her amulets of dyed woven-reed or beken-stone, all blessed and infused with healing properties by a priestess of Isis, could be seen being worn by many in the marketplace. All afternoon customers came one after the other to the stall. Nikolas didn’t simply sell them what they wanted, or sell useless ‘cure-alls’ such as crushed beetles or fly dung. He carefully asked each the exact nature of their problem, the symptoms suffered and felt their foreheads and bellies. He anointed and bandaged sores, set and splinted broken bones and prescribed remedies for headache and morning-sickness. Some customers who perceived illness that were not present were prescribed placebos. One woman with a large unhealthy growth in her womb was referred to the healers at the temple. As he finished his work with each patient Kiya would take over, reciting the relevant magical incantation and provide each customer with their healing amulet.
“Listen to what your patients say, but ask questions to seek the correct remedy,” lectured Nikolas to both Henut and Kiya. “Often the most important information isn’t in what they say, or what they complain of. Know what your remedies can do and what they cannot. That woman today has a problem beyond the art of herbalism. I could give her herbs to dull the pain, but not to heal her illness. Perhaps a surgeon may be of assistance but I’ve never yet seen one effect anything but the most basic of cures. If she sees one of the healing-priests the intervention of the gods and her belief in them may assist her. I won’t have a patient who dies because their illness is beyond my skills. Your first concern is to do no more harm. Be aware of all the properties of the herbs or potions you dispense. Many are poisons or have serious side-effects.”
At Memphis Nikolas had not actively practiced his craft. He’d been content to import or distribute herbs and therapeutic substances and more worldly goods as he studied the wealth of information on the human body, both theoretical and practical, that the ‘Temple of Life’ in Memphis had to offer. Until their time in Aswan and at the village of Shallal Kiya had learned little of the practical application of medicines to cure illness. To know how to grind herbs or produce a poultice teaches nothing about how and when they should be used. Indeed, Nikolas himself had in the past practiced but rarely and was surprised at the way that the theory he had gained in his studies sprang to mind when dealing with the illnesses of his patients.
Nikolas had kept his eyes and ears open in the marketplace. There was an old woman herbalist who had a good reputation, with a stall not far from Nikolas’. Her name was Didiu and Nikolas visited her that afternoon. Although a competitor in the marketplace he was greeted warmly as Didiu had heard of and respected Nikolas’ quickly-won reputation.
“Didiu, I’ll be leaving to travel to the North, perhaps as early as tomorrow. I have patients here who need to be serviced by a skilled practitioner and who I’ll not surrender to any charlatan who walks the marketplace. Also, there’s a young woman from a village just to the south who requires instruction to return and help her village; Henut is her name. There are many who are ill there, including lepers expelled from the city and taken in by the village. Her people have real need. She’s intelligent, keen and has good hands. I’ve spent some time with her but she needs more. I’m sure that you remember w
hen you were young and had a yearning to learn the craft. The boy Aapep is an intelligent and helpful lad and can help with some of the basic preparation of medicines as well as run errands.”
Didiu sat passively, with wrinkled hands clasped together and head tilted forward as she listened to what Nikolas had to say. His words caused her to glimpse the long lost past when she was brought to her calling with a wish to help others who were ill. “It is time, and past, when I should take an apprentice to learn the secret ways,” she agreed. “There’s much to teach and in truth I fear that I have little time left. We guardians of the Knowledge must ensure that it is passed on for future generations. What the gods have given us we must pass on.”
Nikolas arranged that Didiu would take over his patients, that she would go to the village of Shallal at least once a month and that she would take Henut as her apprentice. In return for the transfer of Nikolas’ clients, Henut would work in the city with Didiu three days a week and receive a small stipend, and Aapep would also be offered employment by her.
T T T T
Khui entered the office of Rekhmire, the sAb imy-rA sSw Senior Scribe responsible for the financial records of the area around Aswan, with Nikolas following close behind. Rekhmire, a short middle-aged man with a shaved head and expansive stomach, rose from behind the desk at which he had been working on various papers and grasped Khui’s forearm in welcome. “Welcome my friend! What can I do for the imy a iqdw Regional Chief Architect?”
Clearly Rekhmire had a high regard for Khui.
“Rekhmire, this is Nikolas. I’m working with him on an important matter. I have the highest regard for you and your probity, but I must also ask for your total discretion. The matter on which we’re engaged does not relate to my usual official duties, but a separate investigation that been given to us by Pharaoh himself.”
Here Nikolas handed Rekhmire the Seal of Ramesses. Rekhmire looked closely before handing it back and became even more serious and reserved than before. Khui continued, “Nikolas requires access to the local archives, probably only the financial records but perhaps other information. It would be appreciated if you could arrange access and also should he have any questions on other matters that you provide such information as you have available or which you know or suspect.”
Rekhmire frowned, but nodded his willingness. “An audit! Everybody expects that to happen at some time. Presumably there has been some indication of irregularities. I’ll do all I can to help, of course.” Rekhmire summoned a junior staff member and had Nikolas provided with a small workroom and a junior scribe as an assistant.
T T T T
In the early afternoon Khui sat at a small table in a beer hall with Maakha. The priest was corpulent, his big belly hanging over the fine linen kilt he wore. His shaven head and naked chest glistened with sweat. Khui wrinkled his nose fastidiously at the rank body odour wafting across the table. Clearly the priests of Aten did not take seriously the ritual of cleansing and purifying themselves each morning before entering their temple. Maakha was into his third jug of potently alcoholic beer and was belching repeatedly. The fumes of his partially-digested beer added nothing positive to the atmosphere of the beer-hall.
“I thank you for meeting with me, for I’m in dire need of good company,” lied Khui easily. “I hate to drink alone. I’ve been told that my request for a transfer north has again been rejected and I want to drink to drown my sorrows. I must spend more years in this misbegotten sewer of a town, designing buildings a moronic ten-year-old child would be ashamed of and supervising corrupt contractors who steal everything – even seventy ton blocks of stone! It wouldn’t be so bad if I was getting bribed as well, at least then I could set myself up to be wealthy instead of just receiving my miserable official stipend!”
Maakha’s eyes widened slightly on hearing this diatribe and a smug and knowing look appeared on his face. “I know what you mean!” he said enthusiastically, having a little trouble speaking clearly in his alcohol-befuddled state. “We priests also receive a miserable stipend, have to work all hours of the day and don’t even have time to work the allotment of land we receive to supplement our poor wages.”
Khui smiled at the blatant misrepresentation of facts. Most priests worked part-time in the temple. There were no pastoral duties, just the performance of the morning dawn rituals that took little more than a couple of hours. For this they were reasonably well paid and received the free use of a plot of land belonging to the temple and the use of the workers assigned to that land, to provide for themselves and their families. Looking at Maakha’s belly it was obviously a long time since he had laboured in the fields.
“There are portends of change,” continued Maakha. “I myself have seen the sacred ibis in flight across the sun as it rises in the morning, which is a clear sign of danger ahead. The High Priest has had sacred dreams of a forest of trees being blown over by the wind and a new forest growing in its place, strong and firm. Of cities being levelled as if by an earthquake and new cities rising from the ruins. While all the time the Eternal River rises and falls and the gods give succour and happiness to the people. Pharaoh must provide more land for the temples, to ensure the goodwill of the gods who bless this wonderful land.”
Khui cynically thought to himself ‘Right! Already more than a tenth of the land and workers belong to the temples, who produce nothing for the good of the State or people. Pharaoh spends millions of deben each year to build and enrich more temples. But parasites like you want more for your own comfort and have dreams that are probably brought on by use of dried poppy-extract or sniffing lotus flowers!’ However, he carefully kept his disgust off his face and made encouraging noises.
“But...” continued Maakha conspiratorially, tapping the index finger of his right hand against his rather large and bulbous nose. “There are ways and means for those who want to further themselves.”
“What do you mean?” enquired Khui.
Maakha looked carefully around and said, “If you know the right people, there are those who will pay for your goodwill. People who want change which will benefit the likes of you and me. I’d be happy to put in a good word for my good friend Khui!”
“Who are these valuable friends”? asked Khui.
“I cannot say...I cannot say...but several lords, including Lord Osorkon and Lord Hapimen have been most generous to the temple. I’ll put your name forward for attention.”
Khui muttered profuse thanks; then Maakha changed the topic of conversation to womanizing and the relative merits of the different whores of the town. This was perhaps an odd topic for a man supposedly sworn to celibacy, but not one that surprised Khui as clearly Maakha was a man who looked after all his interests. Eventually, when Maakha was barely coherent after consuming a further two jugs of beer, Khui was able to escape with grace and without offence.
T T T T
Early that evening Nikolas met with Kahun and Pamose at a tavern near the marketplace; Nikolas had arranged with the taverner for the use of the private parlour at the rear of the premises. He and Kiya were already seated as Kahun and Pamose were ushered in.
The soldiers were out of uniform, wearing simple smock-robes, but their short-cropped hair and stiff bearing unmistakably marked them as military men. Nikolas welcomed them with a smile and gestured for them to be seated. There were pitchers of beer on the table and Nikolas poured into wooden cups for all of them. There were triangular loaves of flat bread and dishes of olive oil, yoghurt and fruit preserves in which to dip the bread. Kahun and Pamose helped themselves to the food.
After providing Kahun and Pamose with details of the information the others had obtained so far, the soldiers were able to add little. “What you’ve found hangs together and I believe your conclusions are correct,” said Pamose. “Unfortunately the junior officers I’m working with seem to know little. The senior officers, who Kahun sees, are keeping any secrets to themselves. However, I can certainly say that there is an odd atmosphere, almost of anticipation, in t
he air.”
Kahun nodded his agreement. “I’ve put it about that I’ve been transferred down here in disgrace and am unhappy with my lot, but I haven’t had a nibble yet. I’ve been put in charge of recruitment and training, which doesn’t give me scope to find out much – if I ask questions about things that don’t concern my duties I’m likely to have an arrow in the back before I know it. The training schedule is certainly full-on. General Padiamun seems to want to have his units at full strength and fully trained as soon as possible. Umtau’s information about the supplies to Aniba is most interesting. I can certainly say that the army has no more than two hundred men in that garrison. Whether the rest are rebel forces or Nubians I can’t say, but it is a bit far north to have any substantial numbers of Nubians.”
Pamose said with a wry smile, “I’ll be out of the way for the next three months or so. The company of troops I brought is being shipped out to Amada, about twenty-five miles upstream of Aniba.
At least we aren’t being sent all the way down to the border forts south of the Second Cataract!”
“Do you think that you’ll be able to find out what is happening around Aniba?” asked Kiya.
“No way!” replied Pamose. “We’ll be a company of only fifty men and will spend three months just sitting in the fort counting rocks. If we patrol at all, it’ll be on foot and maybe for a day’s march. We won’t get within ten miles of the Aniba.”
Although it was clearly a waste to have Pamose and his men marooned in the south, short of deserting his post and tipping off the local garrison there was little that could be done. Still, if Ramesses were to send troops to Aniba they’d be able to collect Pamose on the way.
Murder in the Palace: A Nikolas of Kydonia Mystery Page 29