The Mammoth Book of Historical Whodunnits Volume 1 (The Mammoth Book Series)

by Mike Ashley

  We argued the matter for some time, growing more and more heated as the level of the beer in the jar dropped. It was a foolish argument, for none of us knew the facts; and to argue without knowledge is like trying to weave without thread.

  This truth did not occur to me until the cool night breeze had cleared my head, when I was halfway home. I decided to pay Amenhotep a visit. The next time I went to the tavern, I would be the one to tell the latest news, and Merusir would be nothing!

  Most of the honest householders had retired, but there were lamps burning in the street of the prostitutes, and in a few taverns. There was a light, as well, in one window of the house where Amenhotep lodged. Like the owl he resembled, with his beaky nose and large, close-set eyes, he preferred to work at night.

  The window was on the ground floor, so I knocked on the wooden shutter, which of course was closed to keep out night demons. After a few moments the shutter opened, and the familiar nose appeared. I spoke my name, and Amenhotep went to open the door.

  “Wadjsen! It has been a long time,” he exclaimed. “Should I ask what brings you here, or shall I display my talents as a seer and tell you?”

  “I suppose it requires no great talent,” I replied. “The matter of Senebtisi’s tomb is already the talk of the district.”

  “So I had assumed.” He gestured me to sit down and hospitably indicated the wine jar that stood in the corner. I shook my head.

  “I have already taken too much beer, at the tavern. I am sorry to disturb you so late – ”

  “I am always happy to see you, Wadjsen.” His big dark eyes reflected the light of the lamp, so that they seemed to hold stars in their depths. “I have missed my assistant, who helped me to the truth in my first inquiry.”

  “I was of little help to you then,” I said with a smile. “And in this case I am even more ignorant. The thing is a great mystery, known only to the gods.”

  “No, no!” He clapped his hands together, as was his habit when annoyed with the stupidity of his hearer. “There is no mystery. I know who robbed the tomb of Senebtisi. The only difficulty is to prove how it was done.”

  * * *

  At Amenhotep’s suggestion I spent the night at his house so that I could accompany him when he set out next morning to find the proof he needed. I required little urging, for I was afire with curiosity. Though I pressed him, he would say no more, merely remarking piously, “‘A man may fall to ruin because of his tongue; if a passing remark is hasty and it is repeated, thou wilt make enemies.’”

  I could hardly dispute the wisdom of this adage, but the gleam in Amenhotep’s bulging black eyes made me suspect he took a malicious pleasure in my bewilderment.

  After our morning bread and beer we went to the temple of Khonsu, where the sem-priest Wennefer worked in the records office. He was copying accounts from pottery ostraca onto a papyrus that was stretched across his lap. All scribes develop bowed shoulders from bending over their writing; Wennefer was folded almost double, his face scant inches from the surface of the papyrus. When Amenhotep cleared his throat, the old man started, smearing the ink. He waved our apologies aside and cleaned the papyrus with a wad of lint.

  “No harm was meant, no harm is done,” he said in his breathy, chirping voice. “I have heard of you, Amenhotep Sa Hapu; it is an honor to meet you.”

  “I, too, have looked forward to meeting you, Wennefer. Alas that the occasion should be such a sad one.”

  Wennefer’s smile faded. “Ah, the matter of Senebtisi’s tomb. What a tragedy! At least the poor woman can now have a proper reburial. If Minmose had not insisted on opening the tomb, her ba would have gone hungry and thirsty through eternity.”

  “Then the tomb entrance really was sealed and undisturbed?” I asked skeptically.

  “I examined it myself,” Wennefer said. “Minmose had asked me to meet him after the day’s work, and we arrived at the tomb as the sun was setting; but the light was still good. I conducted the funeral service for Senebtisi, you know. I had seen the doorway blocked and mortared and with my own hands had helped to press the seals of the necropolis onto the wet plaster. All was as I had left it that day a year ago.”

  “Yet Minmose insisted on opening the tomb?” Amenhotep asked.

  “Why, we agreed it should be done,” the old man said mildly. “As you know, robbers sometimes tunnel in from above or from one side, leaving the entrance undisturbed. Minmose had brought tools. He did most of the work himself, for these old hands of mine are better with a pen than a chisel. When the doorway was clear, Minmose lit a lamp and we entered. We were crossing the hall beyond the entrance corridor when Minmose let out a shriek. ‘My mother, my mother,’ he cried – oh, it was pitiful to hear! Then I saw it too. The thing – the thing on the floor . . .”

  “You speak of the mummy, I presume,” said Amenhotep. “The thieves had dragged it from the coffin out into the hall?”

  “Where they despoiled it,” Wennefer whispered. “The august body was ripped open from throat to groin, through the shroud and the wrappings and the flesh.”

  “Curious,” Amenhotep muttered, as if to himself. “Tell me, Wennefer, what is the plan of the tomb?”

  Wennefer rubbed his brush on the ink cake and began to draw on the back surface of one of the ostraca.

  “It is a fine tomb, Amenhotep, entirely rock-cut. Beyond the entrance is a flight of stairs and a short corridor, thus leading to a hall broader than it is long, with two pillars. Beyond that, another short corridor; then the burial chamber. The august mummy lay here.” And he inked in a neat circle at the beginning of the second corridor.

  “Ha,” said Amenhotep, studying the plan. “Yes, yes, I see. Go on, Wennefer. What did you do next?”

  “I did nothing,” the old man said simply. “Minmose’s hand shook so violently that he dropped the lamp. Darkness closed in. I felt the presence of the demons who had defiled the dead. My tongue clove to the roof of my mouth and – ”

  “Dreadful,” Amenhotep said. “But you were not far from the tomb entrance; you could find your way out?”

  “Yes, yes, it was only a dozen paces; and by Amon, my friend, the sunset light has never appeared so sweet! I went at once to fetch the necropolis guards. When we returned to the tomb, Minmose had rekindled his lamp – ”

  “I thought you said the lamp was broken.”

  “Dropped, but fortunately not broken. Minmose had opened one of the jars of oil – Senebtisi had many such in the tomb, all of the finest quality – and had refilled the lamp. He had replaced the mummy in its coffin and was kneeling by it praying. Never was there so pious a son!”

  “So then, I suppose, the guards searched the tomb.”

  “We all searched,” Wennefer said. “The tomb chamber was in a dreadful state; boxes and baskets had been broken open and the contents strewn about. Every object of precious metal had been stolen, including the amulets on the body.”

  “What about the oil, the linen, and the other valuables?” Amenhotep asked.

  “The oil and the wine were in large jars, impossible to move easily. About the other things I cannot say; everything was in such confusion – and I do not know what was there to begin with. Even Minmose was not certain; his mother had filled and sealed most of the boxes herself. But I know what was taken from the mummy, for I saw the golden amulets and ornaments placed on it when it was wrapped by the embalmers. I do not like to speak evil of anyone, but you know, Amenhotep, that the embalmers . . .”

  “Yes,” Amenhotep agreed with a sour face. “I myself watched the wrapping of my father; there is no other way to make certain the ornaments will go on the mummy instead of into the coffers of the embalmers. Minmose did not perform this service for his mother?”

  “Of course he did. He asked me to share in the watch, and I was glad to agree. He is the most pious – ”

  “So I have heard,” said Amenhotep. “Tell me again, Wennefer, of the condition of the mummy. You examined it?”

  “It was my duty
. Oh, Amenhotep, it was a sad sight! The shroud was still tied firmly around the body; the thieves had cut straight through it and through the bandages beneath, baring the body. The arm bones were broken, so roughly had the thieves dragged the heavy gold bracelets from them.”

  “And the mask?” I asked. “It was said that she had a mask of solid gold.”

  “It, too, was missing.”

  “Horrible,” Amenhotep said. “Wennefer, we have kept you from your work long enough. Only one more question. How do you think the thieves entered the tomb?”

  The old man’s eyes fell. “Through me,” he whispered.

  I gave Amenhotep a startled look. He shook his head warningly.

  “It was not your fault,” he said, touching Wennefer’s bowed shoulder.

  “It was. I did my best, but I must have omitted some vital part of the ritual. How else could demons enter the tomb?”

  “Oh, I see.” Amenhotep stroked his chin. “Demons.”

  “It could have been nothing else. The seals on the door were intact, the mortar untouched. There was no break of the smallest size in the stone of the walls or ceiling or floor.”

  “But – ” I began.

  “And there is this. When the doorway was clear and the light entered, the dust lay undisturbed on the floor. The only marks on it were the strokes of the broom with which Minmose, according to custom, had swept the floor as he left the tomb after the funeral service.”

  “Amon preserve us,” I exclaimed, feeling a chill run through me.

  Amenhotep’s eyes moved from Wennefer to me, then back to Wennefer. “That is conclusive,” he murmured.

  “Yes,” Wennefer said with a groan. “And I am to blame – I, a priest who failed at his task.”

  “No,” said Amenhotep. “You did not fail. Be of good cheer, my friend. There is another explanation.”

  Wennefer shook his head despondently. “Minmose said the same, but he was only being kind. Poor man! He was so overcome, he could scarcely walk. The guards had to take him by the arms to lead him from the tomb. I carried his tools. It was the least – ”

  “The tools,” Amenhotep interrupted. “They were in a bag or a sack?”

  “Why, no. He had only a chisel and a mallet. I carried them in my hand as he had done.”

  Amenhotep thanked him again, and we took our leave. As we crossed the courtyard I waited for him to speak, but he remained silent; and after a while I could contain myself no longer.

  “Do you still believe you know who robbed the tomb?”

  “Yes, yes, it is obvious.”

  “And it was not demons?”

  Amenhotep blinked at me like an owl blinded by sunlight.

  “Demons are a last resort.”

  He had the smug look of a man who thinks he has said something clever; but his remark smacked of heresy to me, and I looked at him doubtfully.

  “Come, come,” he snapped. “Senebtisi was a selfish, greedy old woman, and if there is justice in the next world, as our faith decrees, her path through the Underworld will not be easy. But why would diabolical powers play tricks with her mummy when they could torment her spirit? Demons have no need of gold.”

  “Well, but – ”

  “Your wits used not to be so dull. What do you think happened?”

  “If it was not demons – ”

  “It was not.”

  “Then someone must have broken in.”

  “Very clever,” said Amenhotep, grinning.

  “I mean that there must be an opening, in the walls or the floor, that Wennefer failed to see.”

  “Wennefer, perhaps. The necropolis guards, no. The chambers of the tomb were cut out of solid rock. It would be impossible to disguise a break in such a surface, even if tomb robbers took the trouble to fill it in – which they never have been known to do.”

  “Then the thieves entered through the doorway and closed it again. A dishonest craftsman could make a copy of the necropolis seal . . .”

  “Good.” Amenhotep clapped me on the shoulder. “Now you are beginning to think. It is an ingenious idea, but it is wrong. Tomb robbers work in haste, for fear of the necropolis guards. They would not linger to replace stones and mortar and seals.”

  “Then I do not know how it was done.”

  “Ah, Wadjsen, you are dense! There is only one person who could have robbed the tomb.”

  “I thought of that,” I said stiffly, hurt by his raillery. “Minmose was the last to leave the tomb and the first to reenter it. He had good reason to desire the gold his mother should have left to him. But, Amenhotep, he could not have robbed the mummy on either occasion; there was not time. You know the funeral ritual as well as I. When the priests and mourners leave the tomb, they leave together. If Minmose had lingered in the burial chamber, even for a few minutes, his delay would have been noted and remarked upon.”

  “That is quite true,” said Amenhotep.

  “Also,” I went on, “the gold was heavy as well as bulky. Minmose could not have carried it away without someone noticing.”

  “Again you speak truly.”

  “Then unless Wennefer the priest is conspiring with Minmose – ”

  “That good, simple man? I am surprised at you, Wadjsen. Wennefer is as honest as the Lady of Truth herself.”

  “Demons – ”

  Amenhotep interrupted with the hoarse hooting sound that passed for a laugh with him. “Stop babbling of demons. There is one man besides myself who knows how Senebtisi’s tomb was violated. Let us go and see him.”

  He quickened his pace, his sandals slapping in the dust. I followed, trying to think. His taunts were like weights that pulled my mind to its farthest limits. I began to get an inkling of truth, but I could not make sense of it. I said nothing, not even when we turned into the lane south of the temple that led to the house of Minmose.

  There was no servant at the door. Minmose himself answered our summons. I greeted him and introduced Amenhotep.

  Minmose lifted his hands in surprise. “You honor my house, Amenhotep. Enter and be seated.”

  Amenhotep shook his head. “I will not stay, Minmose. I came only to tell you who desecrated your mother’s tomb.”

  “What?” Minmose gaped at him. “Already you know? But how? It is a great mystery, beyond – ”

  “You did it, Minmose.”

  Minmose turned a shade paler. But that was not out of the way; even the innocent might blanch at such an accusation.

  “You are mad,” he said. “Forgive me, you are my guest, but – ”

  “There is no other possible explanation,” Amenhotep said. “You stole the gold when you entered the tomb two days ago.”

  “But, Amenhotep,” I exclaimed. “Wennefer was with him, and Wennefer saw the mummy already robbed when – ”

  “Wennefer did not see the mummy,” Amenhotep said. “The tomb was dark; the only light was that of a small lamp, which Minmose promptly dropped. Wennefer has poor sight. Did you not observe how he bent over his writing? He caught only a glimpse of a white shape, the size of a wrapped mummy, before the light went out. When next Wennefer saw the mummy, it was in the coffin, and his view of it then colored his confused memory of the first supposed sighting of it. Few people are good observers. They see what they expect to see.”

  “Then what did he see?” I demanded. Minmose might not have been there. Amenhotep avoided looking at him.

  “A piece of linen in the rough shape of a human form, arranged on the floor by the last person who left the tomb. It would have taken him only a moment to do this before he snatched up the broom and swept himself out.”

  “So the tomb was sealed and closed,” I exclaimed. “For almost a year he waited – ”

  “Until the next outbreak of tomb robbing. Minmose could assume this would happen sooner or later; it always does. He thought he was being clever by asking Wennefer to accompany him – a witness of irreproachable character who could testify that the tomb entrance was untouched. In fact, he was too care
ful to avoid being compromised; that would have made me doubt him, even if the logic of the facts had not pointed directly at him. Asking that same virtuous man to share his supervision of the mummy wrapping, lest he be suspected of connivance with the embalmers; feigning weakness so that the necropolis guards would have to support him, and thus be in a position to swear he could not have concealed the gold on his person. Only a guilty man would be so anxious to appear innocent. Yet there was reason for his precautions. Sometime in the near future, when that loving son Minmose discovers a store of gold hidden in the house, overlooked by his mother – the old do forget sometimes – then, since men have evil minds, it might be necessary for Minmose to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could not have laid hands on his mother’s burial equipment.”

  Minmose remained dumb, his eyes fixed on the ground. It was I who responded as he should have, questioning and objecting.

  “But how did he remove the gold? The guards and Wennefer searched the tomb, so it was not hidden there, and there was not time for him to bury it outside.”

  “No, but there was ample time for him to do what had to be done in the burial chamber after Wennefer had tottered off to fetch the guards. He overturned boxes and baskets, opened the coffin, ripped through the mummy wrappings with his chisel, and took the gold. It would not take long, especially for one who knew exactly where each ornament had been placed.”

  Minmose’s haggard face was as good as an admission of guilt. He did not look up or speak, even when Amenhotep put a hand on his shoulder.

  “I pity you, Minmose,” Amenhotep said gravely. “After years of devotion and self-denial, to see yourself deprived of your inheritance . . . And there was Nefertiry. You had been visiting her in secret, even before your mother died, had you not? Oh, Minmose, you should have remembered the words of the sage: “Do not go in to a woman who is a stranger; it is a great crime, worthy of death.” She has brought you to your death, Minmose. You knew she would turn from you if your mother left you nothing.”