Princess of Egypt (The Mummifier's Daughter) (Volume 2) Read online

  “But, my Lord,” Ptahhotep tried anew, and the advisors continued to argue among themselves.

  “Quiet!” Ramesses commanded. “Need I remind you who I am, or that you are conversing with a God?”

  The room immediately fell silent, with most of the men lowering their heads.

  “It is my wish for her to see the body, and I do not see how it will in any way anger the gods. I want to see with my own eyes whether this is the sorcery everyone claims it to be.”

  “But, My Lord, she cannot see him in such a state,” Sahure reasoned.

  “I am certain she has seen the body of a naked man before; her father was an esteemed embalmer,” Ramesses said dismissively.

  “But, my Lord, your healer has already proclaimed his death to be natural; what more could she possibly tell you?” Ptahhotep insisted.

  Quiet murmurs started among those present, and Ramesses looked hard at Ptahhotep before he replied, “She will tell me what she sees.” He looked past the man, noticed Shabaka, who had been standing just within the doorway, and turned toward him. “Ah, there you are, Shabaka; I need your assistance with this untimely matter. I sent Moses to the palace to collect Neti-Kerty.”

  Shabaka nodded in response and stepped past the pharaoh, and the men gathered around him. He looked about the room as he systematically made his way toward the bed to finally inspect the body before asking, “Has anyone moved anything?”

  Ramesses looked at the men surrounding him before turning his gaze back toward Shabaka. “Not that I know of.”

  Shabaka stepped closer to the bed and reached for the sheet with his free hand, pulling it up and over the man.

  “Why do such a thing?” Ptahhotep demanded.

  Shabaka continued to look about the room as he answered, “Neti may be used to the dead, but she prefers not to have them fully exposed when she enters a room. She is, after all, a woman, and must prepare herself for such things.”

  The men were silent at that, and Shabaka continued his perusal of the room.

  Neti stepped into the room sometime later, and Shabaka breathed a sigh of relief when those around Ramesses simply parted to make way for her.

  She knelt before Ramesses as she spoke. “Good morning, my Lord. I was told you sent for me.”

  “Yes, I did. Rise, my child. It seems my vizier died last night, and though my healer insists that his death was natural, I cannot see it. The man was perfectly healthy yesterday; I therefore want you to tell me what you see.”

  Neti rose, turned her attention to the bulge draped in a sheet, and then looked past it, her gaze locking with Shabaka’s. She inclined her head. “Morning, Shabaka,” she said before approaching the bed.

  “Morning, Neti,” he spoke sincerely. “He is—” he started to warn her when she drew back the sheet.

  “Naked,” she finished for him, having only drawn the sheet halfway down the body before turning to look at him. “I realized that when he was covered. Thank you.” She smiled warmly at him before turning her attention back to the corpse.

  His heart pounded in his chest. It was the sincerity in her interactions that often got to him the most, and he looked past her toward the others, who appeared stunned by her calm demeanor. Ramesses stepped closer as she started to inspect the body.

  “He died sometime last night—” Neti started, only to be interrupted.

  “We already know that!” Ptahhotep retorted, grunting in disbelief before challenging, “Tell us something we don’t.”

  “He died after breeding,” Neti replied bluntly. Her words made the high priest’s eyes protrude, his jaw dropping in shock.

  “I told you she was cursed!” Ptahhotep professed. “To speak so of a man.”

  Shabaka grinned and simply shook his head when Neti looked at him, ignoring the priest’s declarations.

  “You will need to speak with his wife,” she said to Shabaka before turning her attention back to the body.

  “His wife died two seasons ago,” Sahure said.

  “Then you will need to speak to the woman who sees to his needs,” Neti corrected, glancing at Shabaka for a moment.

  “How do you know this?” Ramesses asked, stepping closer.

  “His state of dress would be the first indication. That and the fact that he has not been moved.” She halted for a moment and ran her hand along the lower part of the body, pointing along the darkening line as she spoke. “The blood has started to gather at the bottom of his body, which tells me that he died in this position.”

  “But how do you know of the mating?” Sahure insisted, somewhat hesitantly.

  Neti took a deep breath, then moved slightly to the side and pointed to the area around the body. “There is sweat on the sheets,” she stated, and then cleared her throat, glancing at Shabaka under her lids before continuing. “It is well known that big men sweat more when lying with a woman.”

  “And that is what caused his death?” Ramesses asked.

  “No,” Neti replied, shaking her head. “When they have died in such circumstances, they are usually found gripping their chests over their hearts, the body pulled together.”

  “You mean to tell me you have seen this before?” Ptahhotep demanded in disgust.

  “I have seen a great many things while working with my father,” Neti replied calmly, turning her attention toward the man. “As one would growing up around the dead.” Her words effectively silenced the man, who stepped back a pace.

  Neti turned her attention to the body and then moved a little closer. “That’s not right,” she said softly.

  “What?” Shabaka asked, moving closer to her, his heart already racing, well aware that his original hope of its being a simple investigation was quickly waning.

  “I understand the blue around his mouth, but there are no marks on his face or neck,” Neti said, moving closer, reaching for his hand, which did not budge. She pressed her hand down above the elbow and pulled the hand up.

  “What is she doing?” Sahure demanded. “She will break his arm off like that!”

  Neti turned to look at the man. “I have corrected a great number of bodies after death. His body is hard because the muscles have pulled together; altering his arm like this will not break it.”

  She looked at the man’s hand, both top and bottom, noted its softness, and shook her head again as she moved to the other side of the bed to inspect the other hand. “It does not make sense,” she said, looking at the man and lifting one hand to rub her brow before moving to his head. Placing one hand on his forehead and another on his jaw, she applied pressure to the jaw. It resisted at first, which caused a frown to appear on her forehead. She tried again and applied more pressure, unperturbed by the gasps of the men present.

  The jaw finally gave way, allowing her to look into the man’s mouth and throat. The frown on her forehead deepened as she ran her fingers along the man’s throat, halting periodically and rubbing the sides. “He is already swelling,” she mumbled, as she moved back. Taking hold of the sheet, she pulled it from the man’s body in one swoop and had it gather again at his feet.

  The high priest gasped at her behavior, especially when she started searching for something on the body. On completing her perusal of the upper part of the body, she said, “Shabaka, I need—” her sentence was cut short when she looked at him. “Oh, yes, I forgot.”

  Her glance at his arm frustrated him; for weeks already he had felt like an invalid because of it, even though she never said anything about it.

  “What do you need, child?” Ramesses asked, drawing her attention back to the group of men standing close by.

  “I need someone to help me turn him over.”

  Ramesses turned toward the doorway and gestured for two guards to help her. The two men stepped closer, looking decidedly uncertain about matters as Neti loosened the sheet below the body and handed each of them a section. They looked at her questioningly until she explained, “When they’re this big, it’s easier this way.”

 
She showed them how to pull the sheet and had them haul the man onto his side. Both men grunted from the effort it took to alter the man’s position.

  “That’s fine,” Neti said, stopping them. She took the sheet from them and once again exposed the body, adding “Stay there” as she continued her perusal of the man.

  “What are you looking for?” Shabaka asked when she resumed her inspection.

  “I have seen something similar to this in a man who was brought in from the desert by his friends. My father allowed me to help,” Neti started, as she inspected the man’s vast back.

  “Your father let you help him prepare the bodies of men?” the high priest asked in disbelief.

  “Yes,” Neti replied. “I used to prepare and apply the anointing oils, and whenever new corpses came in he would explain to me what caused their deaths,” she concluded while looking over the man’s leg. Suddenly she exclaimed, “Found it!”

  “What?” Shabaka asked, stepping closer.

  “The cause of death,” she replied, and then moved back before grabbing the man’s shoulder and giving it a mighty tug. The divan creaked loudly as the body flopped back into its previous position. She looked at the guards for a moment, who seemed rather put out by her performance.

  “It’s easier to put them on their backs,” she explained as she moved to the man’s thigh. She looked at it for a moment before turning to one of the guards. “Could you take hold of his knee for me and pull it out slightly?”

  The guard looked at Ramesses, who nodded, and then did as she asked.

  Neti placed her hand on the inside of the man’s hip, pressing lightly. The men in the room gaped at her action.

  “Have you no shame, woman?” the high priest scolded when he noticed how close her hands were to the man’s genitalia.

  Shabaka shifted uncomfortably at the sight, not liking it, and wanted to step closer and pull her hands from the body, but he restrained himself when the she guided the leg into position. Knowing she often did such things and having to bear witness to it was trying, especially since he desired for her to touch him in such places.

  Once the man’s thigh was in position, Neti turned her gaze to the pharaoh and announced, “He died from a scorpion sting.”

  Ramesses immediately stepped closer, asking, “How can you tell?”

  Neti moved next to the man and circled around the area with her finger. “Here are the sting marks.”

  Ramesses looked at the area she indicated and then at her. “But there is more than one mark.”

  “Scorpions sting more than once, and they inject venom with every sting to speed up the spread of poison,” Neti said, and then pointed to another area. “See this area here, how it is still red around the sides? This is where his skin was angered—”

  “So his death was indeed natural?” Sahure interrupted her.

  “No,” Neti replied. “He was murdered.”

  “This is foolish nonsense,” Ptahhotep scoffed. “A Scorpion sting cannot be murder.”

  Neti turned to him, her eyes narrowing. “Is it so difficult for you to see such a possibility?” Neti saw the man’s objection even before he spoke, and quickly added, “No disrespect, great priest, but how much do you know of scorpions?”

  “Do I look like one of Serket’s followers?” the priest replied indignantly. “I have no need to know anything about them, other than the ability to recognize them on sight.”

  “Then, like all Egyptians, your parents would have taught you not to lift or move rocks without a stick, and to shake any clothing that has lain on the ground before gathering it together.”

  Ptahhotep uncertainly replied, “Yes.”

  “That is because scorpions do not climb furniture; they hide under things on the ground.”

  “What does this have to do with his death?” Ramesses intervened, pointing at the vizier.

  Neti focused her attention on the pharaoh. “For him to have been stung on his inner thigh, he would have had to have been lying down, and because scorpions do not climb, it would have had to have been placed in his bed with him.” She then turned to Shabaka. “You will need to find the woman who lay with him last night. She is the only one who will know anything.”

  “You want us to believe that someone came in here last night, put a scorpion in his bed, and that his death is therefore murder?” Sahure started in disbelief. “This when it is well known that there are scorpions all around us.”

  “The only scorpions that can kill a full grown man are those found in the desert, far away from the river’s waters,” Neti said, pointing to the deceased man. “He was not in a bayt in the desert sleeping on a grass mat. He was in a house near the river with lush gardens. A night starker would come here, unless it was placed here.” Neti pointed to the vizier. “He also holds a position of power; it is not unusual that someone might have wanted to be rid of him.”

  Ramesses looked over the body as he asked, “You are certain he died of a scorpion sting?”

  “A deathstalker paralyzes its victim as its poison moves within the body. The area around his mouth is blue, there are blood marks in his eyes, and his throat is swollen. He could not breathe and he could not move.”

  Ramesses nodded and looked at her. “Is there more?”

  Neti looked at the body and shrugged her shoulders. “I can tell you more once I start the embalming process.”

  “What?” the high priest scorned. “A woman embalming a vizier! That is unheard of, and—”

  The man halted mid-sentence when Ramesses turned and looked pointedly at him.

  Ramesses once again turned to Neti and shook his head. “I do not think that will be needed. I’m certain from what we have learned here that you and Shabaka will manage to find the person responsible.”

  Neti nodded and stepped away from the body, and Shabaka stood next to her. He reached out with his free arm, his hand landing gently on her lower back as he said, “Come, let’s go, we can discuss it away from here.”

  Neti turned to look at him, smiling, then turned her gaze to the pharaoh and bowed her head before she left the room.

  3

  THE MAIN ASSEMBLY HALL of the palace was filled with grandees, all having journeyed to witness the appointment of the new vizier. Everyone present boasted the finest clothing made from the most preeminent fabrics, their arms and necks adorned with gold necklaces and bracelets.

  Had it not been for Maathorneferure’s insistence shortly after Neti’s arrival, Neti was certain she would have stood out like a mandrake in a wheat field. The queen, having merely glanced at her slips the morning after her arrival, had promptly declared them entirely unfit for wear around the palace and had them cast out. She had then sent for sheath dresses from the royal harem in Medinet el-Ghurab.

  They were the sheerest and whitest linen Neti had ever touched; even her mother’s finest and most expensive fabric had not been as soft or precisely woven.

  She had expected the dresses to feel warm, but they were comfortable against her skin, and once she had shaved, the feeling was closer to silk than cotton.

  Maathorneferure had also insisted that her wig be replaced, and when Neti had objected to the expense, the queen had merely brushed it off, stating that they were hers to give and should be considered her reward from the pharaoh for her assistance in Thebes.

  Life in the palace varied greatly from what she knew. She was no longer permitted to go to the river to bathe; the women of the palace had their own bathing area, which was fed by the river. She was also not permitted to go down to the river to do her washing, and when she had tried to do her washing after her bath, as she had often done before, she found that her sheath dress had been removed only later to reappear in her chamber clean and dry. There was also no need for her to tend the gardens or prepare meals, and she often found herself hesitant as to what she should do. She spent a great deal of time wandering through the palace halls and rooms, reading the hieroglyph-inscribed walls and talking to the scribes.
/>   She was not permitted to leave the palace without either a guard or Shabaka as an escort, the latter constantly engaged in matters both personal and professional and often unable to escort her, something that irked her a great deal. She felt cut off from everything she knew with nothing to do.

  She looked around the hall, having originally hoped that he would be present, but she was also thankful that he was not, because in all likelihood his wife would have been standing at his side. She had not fully come to terms with that or accepted the fact that he had a family and had not bothered to tell her. Yet whenever she thought back on their time together, she had come to realize that he had never really told her much of himself.

  It was not uncommon for a man to take more than one wife. It was, however, less common for him to do so if he deeply cared for his wife. But even in such matters, he should have mentioned her, or at least mentioned that he had a family, unless he had no real intentions toward her to start with. It was a probable reason, but it did not explain his restraint. For there were moments when she had felt it, when it had hung in the air, heavy; yet every time he had stepped back.

  She released a frustrated sigh as her gaze moved over the people assembled, taking in the various people from all over the Egyptian empire. She noted their clothing, the differences in their behaviors as they addressed one another.

  A delightful laugh drew her attention to the young princess seated next to her. Ri-Hanna was only a few seasons younger than her and had a carefree air and delicate beauty that many coveted. Neti had spoken with her on several occasions during meals, and though she had been educated by one of the scribes, she had not enjoyed her tutelage. She had a love for cats, owning two that freely moved about her rooms, while her days were spent at leisure, something Neti found very difficult to understand.

  Just then, the new vizier stepped through the doors, causing the entire hall to fall silent. Neti had noticed the man on first arriving at the palace, for he had stood out from the others. Why, she was still uncertain, for he had not been the only young and attractive man in the group of men that surrounded the pharaoh, and she had yet to spend time in his company.