The Curse of Anubis - A Mystery in Ancient Egypt (The Mummifier's Daughter Series Book 3) Read online

  The Curse of Anubis

  The Mummifier's Daughter - Book Three

  Nathaniel Burns

  Heiken Marketing

  Copyright © 2013 by Nathaniel Burns

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Heiken Marketing

  [email protected]

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Edited by Joni Wilson

  1

  THE SUN STEADILY ROSE to its zenith, rapidly warming the dusty streets of Thebes, while a lingering breeze lifted the ends of the fabric canopies on various drays situated around the market place, sheltering the assortment of wares on display from the sun.

  The scent of freshly baked bread challenged the pungent odor emitted from the morning’s catch, as shuties bartered for trades. Loud chatter and prattle, from a gathered crowd of onlookers, was audible for some distance as they encouraged the adolescent boys, during the various training challenges. The rhythmic banging of sticks in the center of the marketplace drew favored attention over wilting vegetables and aging foodstuffs.

  Young, firm bodies covered in a slight sheen of sweat and dressed in loin cloths, leaped and dodged in preparation for the annual stick battles; a time when they were granted the opportunity to impress the pharaoh with their skills, in hope of being drafted into the royal guard. Trainers called directions, while onlookers discussed individual styles and performances.

  Those not drawn to the matches, moved about the marketplace, frequenting various drays, inspecting foodstuffs, spices and fabrics, while youngsters engaged in an energetic game of kicking an inflated pig’s bladder around the area.

  Commotion in one corner, along with angry shouts and demands, drew the attention of those in the marketplace. And moments later, three men burst into the marketplace running blindly, as if Thoth and Anibus were chasing them, leaping over drays and toppling some of the smaller carts; sending foodstuffs, spices and bolts of fabric tumbling to the ground.

  Pedestrians complained as they were violently shoved aside, while shuties tried to limit the damage to their wares, as more drays were topped.

  Hot on their heels, Shabaka and Moses leaped over and sidestepped, as best they could, the array of obstacles cast in their path, while the men made for the far end of the marketplace. Shabaka and Moses tried to gain some ground, simultaneously trying to avoid the bruised fruit and flatbread that were flung at them by angry shuties. Market goers hastily gathered up the scattered wares, some even making off with the goods.

  Shabaka’s next leap over a toppled cart saw him again check his pace, as a little girl was crouched in front of him, collecting a piece of flatbread that had fallen to the ground. He barely managed to sidestep her.

  At the edge of the marketplace, the number of obstacles lessened, and they picked up their pace, effectively gaining ground on the men. Just beyond the outskirts of the marketplace, Shabaka took hold of one man’s sash and yanked him back. The man cussed in response, causing the others to check their pace and turn around. The second man pulled a dagger and approached Shabaka, just as Moses caught up, causing Moses to draw his own khopesh dagger.

  Moses entered into battle with the second man, while Shabaka tried to subdue the whirling, twirling whirlwind of a man in his grasp. The man flung wild punches and kicks in all directions with his hands and feet, whenever he could, contorting his body in various directions, seemingly simultaneously.

  Shabaka tempered the blows, and, although numerous and hurried, none were truly focused or hard enough to deter him. They did however serve to keep him occupied, and allowed the third man to approach with his dagger drawn. Shabaka only realized his error when a red-hot pain surged up his arm, and he turned to look at his second attacker. The sounds of daggers clashing filled the area, with chants of encouragements as many of the market goers, who in hope of a fight, had followed and surrounded them. Many were shouting words of encouragement, although no one could make out whom they were really cheering for.

  The man that Shabaka held by the scruff landed a punch on his jaw. The searing pain had Shabaka see dots, and he shook his head to dispel them, moments before firmly grasping the man by the throat, lifting him and throwing him toward the other. Both men fell to the ground, the first man squealing in pain as his companion’s dagger penetrated his side.

  Shabaka gripped his injured arm, in hope of stemming the blood, and winced in pain. Drawing back his fingers, he was alarmed by the depth of the gash and the amount of blood that covered his fingers, simultaneously thankful that the blow had not been higher.

  The third man flung his injured companion from him, yanking his blade from the man’s side and ripping out a large chunk of flesh in the process, before regaining his feet and pointing the blood-covered blade at Shabaka.

  The clanking of blades persisted as Moses sparred with his opponent. Moses, using maneuvers and counters taught him at the royal court, found his opponent well skilled. Although the complexity of the maneuvers, and their continued application, seemed to confuse his opponent, Moses eventually managed to disarm him. He grabbed the man, twisting him around before rushing him headfirst into the nearest mud-brick wall. The impact instantaneously stunned the man and rendered him unconscious as he fell to the ground.

  Turning, Moses saw Shabaka battling with the other man, dodging the man’s spars and mounting an attack of his own. Moses immediately recognized the man’s skills and realized that this Kadurt, whom he had only heard tales of, must have sourced some of his men from the pharaoh’s guards. He also noticed the steady stream of blood that ran down Shabaka’s arm as he approached. Knowing it would not be long before the prefect became faint; he also knew that Neti would have Shabaka’s hide for it, again.

  As Moses neared the man, he called to Shabaka to announce his approach. The man turned to look, and, as if sensing his defeat, he turned and pushed through the onlooking crowd.

  Moses made to follow, but was halted when Shabaka caught hold of his arm. “Leave him,” Shabaka instructed, causing Moses to turn to him in doubt.

  “You getting old or something?” Moses threw back in disbelief.

  “We only needed to question them about Kadurt’s whereabouts,” Shabaka said, before turning to look at the man who lay in a heap before them. His grip on his arm tightened, as more of the warm sticky fluid seeped through his fingers, and the overwhelming coppery tang of blood assailed his senses. He wanted to gag from it. However, he shook his head as he spoke, “They must be up to something again, if they’re willing to run and fight so impulsively.”

  “Could be the fact that their employer owes Suten-Anu a huge debt, and they could be made to pay,” Moses said, nudging the man’s foot with his own. The action received no response from the man. “This one is dead; we will have to send for a per-nefer
.”

  A group of angry shuties approached, all complaining about the damages they had suffered, only to be silenced with the arrival of the market guards.

  “What of the other one?” Shabaka asked, looking at the still form laying some distance from them.

  “I knocked him out, he’ll have a sore head for a while, but we’ll get him to talk,” Moses said, and then tilted his head as he looked at Shabaka, “We’d better get you to a house of life.”

  Shabaka looked at his arm and then shook his head, “It can wait; the bleeding is slowing. Besides I want this mess cleaned up first,” and then he turned to the guards, demanding, “What took you so long? One of them got away.”

  “We were on the other side of the market,” one hesitantly spoke up, and Shabaka tempered his anger. Recently, the village guards seemed utterly lax to him.

  “What about the other one?” Moses asked, indicating the direction the third man had fled.

  “I don’t know if they are all his men,” Shabaka said, looking over the two men. “I don’t recognize these two, although the other one I have seen with Kadurt.”

  “They could be new recruits,” Moses said.

  Shabaka beckoned one of the guards closer, as he answered, “Could be, which leaves an even greater question unanswered.”

  “What would that be?” Moses asked.

  “Why would he need more men?” Shabaka deadpanned, and then turned to the guard. “Go call Marlep, and tell him to bring his bearers.” He then turned to the remaining guard and indicated for him to take the other man, who seemed to be coming to again, into custody. “Put him in a shackle chamber; I will question him later.”

  “I wonder where he got them,” Moses stated, as the guard lugged the man in question away, “Because that one is an experienced fighter, almost at the same level as the royal palace guards.”

  Shabaka looked at the young man, picking up his concern, “I think you might be onto something there. Some of the residents have complained that the guards have become increasingly slack in the pharaoh’s absence.”

  Shabaka then turned and looked over the devastated marketplace. He heard low murmurs of discontent from the shuties. “I think we need to initiate mandatory training sessions; just because Egypt is at peace, does not mean its forces should become slipshod,” Shabaka said, and then turned to Moses, stumbling.

  “You are first going to a house of life,” Moses said, as he moved to assist Shabaka, and jested, “You always have the most inopportune habit of getting injured.”

  Shabaka grumbled, “Well you would too if you were attacked by two men,” just as the captain of the guard approached, seeming intent on questioning them. However, on noticing Shabaka’s injury, the man waived them on.

  “Have Marlep send his findings to Neti-Kerty,” Shabaka said, as the stepped past the captain.

  * * *

  That afternoon, after the healer had reluctantly consented to Shabaka’s release, Shabaka and Moses made for the shackle chambers. The guard on duty was quick to move out of their path and allow them access to the building, looking after them as they proceeded through the courtyard at a swift pace.

  “Where is he?” Shabaka asked the supervisor, as they came to a halt before the man.

  The man shifted on his stool before pointing behind him. “He is in one of the back chambers.”

  “Have him brought to the flaying yard,” Shabaka ordered, causing both Moses and the supervisor to look at him in surprise. “And have the whip wielder summoned.” Shabaka then turned from the man and made for the flaying yard.

  It was older than the one at Pi-Ramesses, and dustier, not having enjoyed as much usage in the pharaoh’s absence. Although it was not Shabaka’s favorite method of extracting information, the mere threat of a beating was often enough to get men talking. Unlike Pi-Ramesses, where the flaying post was fashioned from stone with metal loops for fastening, Thebes’s post had been carved from an old tree that had stood in the middle of the yard. The wood was bleached grey by the sun, with deep cracks running along the barkless trunk.

  Commotion at the entranceway caused Shabaka to turn and look toward it, recognizing the man who was struggling against two guards, as they drug him into the courtyard. Shabaka dispassionately looked on as they strapped him to the whipping post, and then pulled the faded fabric covering his back aside.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong!” the man proclaimed, as the whip wielder entered the yard, flexing his wrists as he played with the whip. “You cannot whip me!”

  “You ran, after you were specifically ordered to stand by an enforcer of the pharaoh’s laws,” Shabaka calmly started. “You also drew a weapon on an official and engaged in combat, after failing to comply with a direct order. Both actions are punishable with a lashing.”

  “That is not enough of a trespass to warrant a full flogging,” the man challenged, as the whip wielder approached.

  “To others I may be more lenient, but for one as defiant as you, while also considering the company you keep, it is most appropriate,” Shabaka said, before turning his attention toward the whip wielder, who nodded in agreement, moments before the whip whizzed through the sky, thwacking just over the man’s head. The man cringed in response, the muscles along his back trembling.

  “The whip wielder here seems a bit out of practice, he might even take your head off by mistake,” Shabaka said, stepping closer to the man, “But then I might reconsider your punishment, if you answer my questions.”

  “I don’t know anything,” the man defiantly maintained, and Shabaka again gestured to the whip wielder. The whip this time cracked next to the man’s head, causing the man to violently jerk against his bonds.

  “Let’s start with the simple questions: like what is your name?”

  “Azam.”

  “Good, Azam, now what allegiance do you have with Kadurt?”

  “I hold no allegiance to him.”

  “Then why were you meeting with his second in command?”

  “We were just talking.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Shabaka said, and indicated to the whip wielder, who sent the whip flying through the air, with only the every tip touching the man’s back, causing him to scream.

  “If you were just talking, why the need to run?” Shabaka glared at him, demanding, “Where is Kadurt?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Shabaka again signaled for the whip wielder, and he cracked the whip mere inches from the man’s ear. The man cried out in alarm and again jerked against his bonds.

  “Next time I’ll tell him to take it off,” Shabaka threatened, and then calmly continued, “I also remind you that your allegiance to Kadurt annuls even the smallest of consideration due you. You are a thief and a cheat by association and the whip wielder here has not had a real person to practice on in a while. I can have him flog you for days, barely keeping you alive, until you speak.”

  Again, the whip cracked overhead, and the man visibly swallowed.

  “So, where will I find Kadurt?”

  “He’s not in Thebes,” the man finally relented.

  “He’s not?” Shabaka questioned in disbelief. “Then what were you doing here?”

  “We had to pick up some goods for him.”

  Shabaka halted for a moment, tempted to demand to know which goods, but he instead centered his attention on locating the man and again demanded, “So, where is he?”

  “Last I heard, he was on the west bank.”

  “There is nothing for him on the west bank, unless he plans on robbing tombs—for which he will be killed,” Shabaka resolutely maintained.

  “He has a meeting planned with Ma-Nefer in Deir-el-Medina.”

  The man’s words caused Shabaka’s entire body to go rigid. His heart raced, as he felt his anger rise anew. “Ma-Nefer?” he spat, “What could those two possibly have to discuss?”

  Shabaka’s response to the news did not go unnoticed by Moses, who was quick to see the prefect’s animos
ity rise, to levels he had never before witnessed.

  “I don’t know,” Azam said, “All I know was that they were to meet.”

  Shabaka stepped back, his anger getting the best of him, as he gestured to the whip wielder.

  His action shocked Moses, who had become familiar with some of Shabaka’s more heavy-handed tactics of extracting information. However, Shabaka had never before signaled a whip wielder to issue a full lash.

  The whip whistled through the air and a loud thwack followed as it connected with the man’s back. Azam let out an ear-piercing scream, before gasping for breath, hissing through his teeth, as a thin line of blood seeped through the lacerated skin when the wielder pulled back the whip

  “What does he want with Ma-Nefer?” Shabaka harshly demanded.

  “I don’t—”Another thwack followed. This time the man’s wail was followed by a string of cuss words.

  Shabaka gave him a moment to recover before asking, “What does he want?”

  “Ma-Nefer has some gems he needs traded.” Azam said, through clenched teeth, quickly adding, “That is all I know, I swear,” as the whip again whizzed through the air.

  Shabaka stopped the whip wielder with a gesture, before commanding, “Take him back to his shackles, I will later decide what to charge him with.” He then turned to Azam, “My decision depends on the truthfulness of the information you have provided me with.”

  Shabaka turned from Azam and made to leave the yard, with Moses quickly moving to fall into step with him.

  “What do you have against this Ma-Nefer?” Moses was quick to question, needing to hasten his pace to keep up with Shabaka.

  “He is the man who almost killed Neti,” Shabaka seethed.

  “Wasn’t he the one she was supposed to marry? The same man that—” Moses replied, the latter came out angrily.

  However, he was cut short by Shabaka, who suddenly halted and turned toward him, demanding, “How do you know that?” while drawing himself up to his full height.

  “I sat in on Pa-Nasi’s hearing,” Moses hastily replied, drawing back some and lifting his hands in surrender.