The Prince of Nubia Page 5

  Chapter Five

  Shabaka returned to the palace, and stepped from his chariot, not even taking in his surroundings as he entered the main hall, simply lifting his hand in dismissal of the palace harbinger as he continued on his path, getting halfway into the hall before a familiar voice stopped him.

  “I see your manners have deserted you.”

  Shabaka felt a sense of elation fill him as he turned and took in the familiar Hebrew.

  “Although the gods only know how Neti manages to tolerate your moods. Talking about her, where is she? I haven’t yet seen her. I thought she would be with you or have you left her with the body of some departed?” The words were teasing, yet they could not lessen the sudden sense of desolation that overcame him.

  “From the look on your face I’d say there is something wrong. Where is she?” Moses said, stepping closer.

  Shabaka looked about them for a moment, not having disclosed the reason for Moses’ summons in the papyrus, only that his presence was urgently required in Sylene.

  “Come this way,” Shabaka said, gesturing to one of the passageways, “where we can talk freely.”

  Shabaka led Moses out to one of the gardens. It was not as lavish as those at Pi-Ramesses, however, it offered respite for those who sought it, without the fear of others eavesdropping. Even so, Shabaka led Moses some distance into the garden before finally halting. He turned around to watch Moses, as the man took in the sights around him, the foreign plants.

  “I did not want to include too much information in the summons, especially if it were intercepted.” Shabaka started, drawing Moses’ attention to him

  Moses nodded before replying, “The note and the captain’s actions were confusing at first. I could not understand the haste; he wanted to depart by sunset. I managed to convince him to rest his men until morning, that I had some goods I would have to gather before I could leave. Also I could not just leave Yani without word of where I would be going.” Shabaka made to stop his conversation, although Moses seemed determined to finish his thoughts.

  “Yani was besides herself, she insisted on baking bread and sent some clothing for Neti . . . I wish I could say I saved you some of her bread, but that is not possible since the captain and his men were only too happy to consume it all.”

  “It does not matter; I do not think I would have been able to stomach it,” Shabaka flatly replied, causing the other man to falter and look at his friend.

  “What is it that you are not telling me and why are you so secretive about it? Or have you done something the pharaoh would be angered by?”

  “Well, the latter would be one of many problems I am facing at the moment, other than my impending marriage.”

  “Marriage! You sly, when? Your parents approved?” Moses enthused, however his face quickly fell even before Shabaka spoke.

  “My impending marriage is not to Neti; my parents have not approved either, yet,” Shabaka softly, regretfully replied. Moses looked at him in question, however, he remained silent allowing Shabaka to continue, “I think you had better sit down, there is a great deal that has happened since we last spoke.”

  Shabaka told Moses of everything that had happened—about Menwi, the predictions, Neti’s sister’s child, Dragi’s death, and Neti’s disappearance, right up to receipt of Neti’s sash. Moses listened, questioned, and finally shook his head before releasing a heavy sigh. “And you will now will be expected to marry this woman, Aya.”

  Shabaka shrugged his shoulders, “I’m hoping my father will overturn it.”

  “You don’t sound too certain,” Moses said.

  Shabaka took a deep breath before replying, “According to our customs, I am well past the age of taking a wife, and, to be honest, if we don’t find Neti, or if . . .” He did not even finish the sentence, “then I might as well.” He added despondently. “It is not as if I have anyone else who interests me.”

  “And what have you done to find her?” Moses asked.

  “That is just it, I can’t do anything,” Shabaka stressed, frustrated. “I cannot leave the palace as the vizier considers me in charge in my father’s absence. The court advisor urges me not to make a scene, and I have had to deal with meddling arrangements and matters, none that are of any great importance!”

  “I see. So at the moment the kidnappers are under the impression that nothing is being done,” Moses thoughtfully replied.

  Shabaka quickly turned toward him, angrily professing “I am not—”

  However, he did not get to say more as Moses lifted his hand to silence him, calmly stating, “Relax, it is I, your friend, speaking, and of all the people in Egypt and Nubia, I am well aware of your affections for Neti, and I dare say hers for you.”

  “What!” Shabaka demanded.

  “A discussion for another time,” Moses said, “for now we have to find her.”

  “Which is why I had you come here, you will have freedom of movement—and I trust you.”

  Moses looked at him for several moments, tilting his head before finally speaking, “Right, so let’s start with what we have. You know she was not killed in the desert.”

  “There was no body, the medjay went out to check.”

  “And then this stoneworker brought you her sash.”

  “Yes, we kept him here overnight. I’ve even had someone observe his movements and try to determine whom he spoke to, but still nothing.”

  Moses thought it over for several moments. “And you are certain the sash is hers?”

  Shabaka looked at him in disbelief, “I would know her new sash anywhere, there is none other like it.”

  “There is where I differ with you. Your people love color and patterns; it is the first thing I noticed arriving this morning. Any crafty weaver could have seen the pattern and mimicked it, without knowing its significance, and we both know how often people want to represent that their status is higher than it is. Also, from what you have told me, there would be sufficient time to weave one.”

  “If that is so, then how am I to confirm it? I have no idea where she got it.”

  “That is simple enough, as Yani sent one with me. She said Dalva only made enough fabric for three and she did something while making it that raised the colors, so we can compare them.”

  “Her sash is in my quarters,” Shabaka said, turning to move thankful to have something to do.

  “I’ll meet you there, after I get the cloth,” Moses said, following him from the garden.

  Shabaka entered his chamber, making directly for where his sashes hung and drawing the required one from among them. In some way he hoped it was hers, and part of it hoped that it was not. That way she might actually be safe. He paced while waiting for Moses, trying to think of a means to progress from here to find out more information.

  Moses arrived with a sash that was less soiled than the one Shabaka held. Moses extended his hand toward Shabaka and reluctantly let go of it. They checked the pattern and weave, both matching. Shabaka’s tongue felt thick in his mouth and it was eventually Moses that said the words, “It’s hers.”

  “That means . . .” Shabaka started to say, but could not seem to get more out as he reached for and pulled the soiled sash from Moses’ grasp, clenching it in his fist.

  “It means that we have to find her, and soon,” Moses said, moving a few steps away, irritably rubbing his face with one hand. “Okay, let’s start. The man who brought you that, you said he was a stoneworker.”

  “Yes.”

  “So we can assume that whoever sent this was either at some point close to Neti or has her held captive.”

  “How did you know Ma-Nefer was responsible for my disappearance?”

  “We started with . . . that’s it!” Moses exclaimed, turning to look at Shabaka, “Who has a grudge against you? Who would want to hurt you?”

  Shabaka’s forehead marred, “I have not been in Nubia for several dry seasons, I could not have affronted anyone.”

  “Okay, then, since your return?�
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  Shabaka thought it over for several moments, shaking his head, “I only really had contact with Aya, Dragi, his servants, and the medjay.”

  “And is there anyone who might consider you or Neti responsible for Dragi’s death?”

  “You did not see the crowd this morning,” Shabaka flatly replied. “If we look at it from that point, then that would include almost all the traders and creators in Aswan.”

  “But how many knew of your involvement the past few days?”

  “I don’t know; you should know how quickly news spreads among traders.”

  “That is also so, and many know that death is something that comes with the trade, so they should not hold it against you.”

  “That leaves the staff, Aya, and the son.”

  “The staff were paid and left before his death. Aya is here, and she has not had contact with anyone outside the palace since the event. The son is a student; he is studying. He only pushed for the home, grounds, and the trading post, as was his to have, and he has already implemented his own ideas.” The latter was said with indifference.

  “Why say that?” Moses was quick to ask.

  “Why let good productive gardens go to seed, cutting back staff?”

  “Inexperience?” Moses offered.

  Shabaka shook his head, “I’ve spoken to him, he knows little of much. His mother ensured that he was well-provided for and with his father’s death he has gained a great position in life. He will live comfortably by simply continuing with matters as they are.”

  “So that leaves us with the man who brought that,” Moses said, pointing to the sash Shabaka held.

  Shabaka shook his head, “We held him in the worst of our holding cells, one that has rats the size of cats and they’ll eat your toes in your sleep, and we got nothing out of him other than complaints about him wanting to go home to his family. I had him accompanied back to the quarry by medjay, and there was one who watched over his actions for several days. However, he has not spoken to anyone, other than the men he works with and his foreman. No stranger approached him. I then had the man removed and instructed the palace quarry supervisor to notify me if any stranger arrived there. My hope was that with the obvious guard removed, the same person would actually approach him again.”

  “And you trust this man? This palace supervisor.”

  “About as much as the next man in the street. He hasn’t given me reason not to.”

  “And you know that this stoneworker is not the one holding her?”

  Shabaka shook his head, “We checked the work records, he was in Sylene working at the time Neti went missing.”

  Moses remained silent for several moments before speaking, “No one other than us knows the significance of this sash?” he asked, holding up the one he had.

  Shabaka shook his head, “Other than the pharaoh’s colors.”

  “I will need an interpreter; I do not speak your tongue well.”

  “What?” Shabaka asked confused, “You can take Hassim, if you need someone you can trust. What are you planning?”

  “Tomorrow I will go to the quarry wearing this, portraying myself as one of the pharaoh’s people who has come to assess the quality of stone and workmanship.”

  “You cannot do that!” Shabaka exclaimed, “It is a crime, punishable by the pharaoh for representing one of his.”

  “I am a prefect, just like you. Neti also trained me. I might not be an embalmer but I know enough of her trade to answer any questions I might be asked. So it would not be an entire misrepresentation—”

  Moses made to continue, however Shabaka interrupted, “And what do you hope to accomplish by this action?”

  “You said that other than us, no one knows the meaning of this sash, for all they know it could be the one Ramesses provides only for his most trustworthy advisors. Think about it—even your brother’s son, Hassim, knows I was in the palace, so it would not be an impossible assumption to make. If I were seen tending to matters of the pharaoh, wearing this, then it would force whoever has her into doing something, or giving some indication that she is alive. They would then have to use the same message system, which means we can follow the messenger to the message’s origin.”

  “How do we know it will work?”

  “We don’t; we just hope my appearance will alert someone. And possibly later you can accompany me on a similar matter wearing her sash,” Moses said, pointing to the cloth Shabaka held.

  Shabaka looked at the sash in his hand, his head already shaking incrementally, “I couldn’t do that, it’s . . . it’s . . . hers.”

  “Well argue the merits later. But first we’ll see if we can gain any reaction from the people. If they see that the sash she wears is not the only one, they will think that there are many and that could be why you have not done anything about it. Who here knows that she is missing?”

  “Only those present at the time and my immediate circle.”

  “And they will not talk?” Moses asked.

  Shabaka seemed hesitant about it, before finally replying, “The disappearance of one of the pharaoh’s people is serious enough without . . .” Shabaka trailed off.

  “Without anyone needing to know you have feelings for her. I get it. So your actions could be seen in such a light, concern for one of the pharaoh’s people. Which in a way helps us.”

  “Helps us how?” Shabaka demanded,

  “If they suspect your attachment to her, she could be used as leverage, they could try to manipulate you, but as one of the pharaoh’s people, she might be worth much to the pharaoh but not to someone in Sylene—especially once your impending marriage is openly discussed between us.”

  “I have no intention of that happening!” Shabaka countered.

  Moses shook his head, “Imagine how it would look, I have arrived and you introduce me to your wife to be. I rib you as I usually do—same as you constantly go on about me and Yani. It would throw the focus off your response to anything about Neti. It would be appropriate, given the situation.”

  “You forget that we have spoken in tongues as far as they are concerned.”

  “It does not matter; our actions are of far greater importance than the words. Besides, it of no concern of theirs when we discuss matters pertaining to the pharaoh.”

  Shabaka finally nodded.

  ~~~

  The door scraped on the caked mud floor, admitting two figures, “Come, I have something I want you to see before we discuss whatever matter you felt was this urgent,” Rameke said, as he stepped into the room followed by another figure.

  Both men approached the misshapen figure surrounded by dirty fabric. The visitor visibly braced against the smell. He tilted his head from one side to the other, before finally moving closer and exclaiming, “Are you mad?!” the man said, before dropping to his haunches next to the misshapen shape.

  “Revenge is sweet.” Rameke said.

  “Revenge will get you killed!” the man exclaimed, reaching for the woman’s net, “What were you thinking, abducting the prince’s partner?”

  “I wanted a hold on him. I want to torture him,” Rameke spitefully replied.

  “And what has he done to you?” the man demanded, turning toward him,

  “My father gave him Aya, but she’s mine—mine to inflict on what she did to my mother.”

  “And for that you are slowly killing one of the pharaoh’s people. Are you hoping for a war with the Egyptian pharaoh?” the man looked about him. Noticing the small pot of water, he reached for it, sniffed it, and then cast it aside.

  “War? Ha! Don’t dramatize everything, she is not that important.”

  “By the gods, you are a bigger fool than I thought. Kidnapping one of the prince’s admirers is one thing, but her. Even I know she is one of the pharaoh’s most trusted.”

  “She’s just a woman who goes around with him,” Rameke retorted.

  “When last has she eaten something or had something other than stale water to drink?”

&nb
sp; “How should I know? I put Merka in charge of her.”

  The man turned to look at Rameke in disbelief, before replying angrily, “Merka? The one who can hardly remember what he did this morning! He can barely see to his own needs, never mind that of another person!”

  “Why do you care so much? It’s just a woman.”

  “Go get me some water, fresh water,” the man said, stepping around Neti and starting to loosen the bonds around her wrists.

  “Don’t do that!” Rameke cried out.

  “What? She’s not going anywhere; her body has already started consuming itself to keep her alive. She’s not going to run anywhere any time soon.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Some of us actually spent time with the scribes and tutors to learn. Now go! Or she won’t live much longer. And then I do not want to be in you.”

  “She is not that important. You are just trying to scare me,” Rameke deflected, “besides I am not leaving you alone with her.”

  “Scare you? Ha, you will be finished if there is a war declared because of this. If you don’t want to leave me here, then summon the servant for water,” the visitor said, moving to loosen the bonds around her ankles.

  “Why should I care if there is a war?” Rameke persisted, “Nubia would then be independent of the Egyptian bastard god.”

  The man righted himself, looking Rameke straight in the eye, “You’re never able to see the important matters.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Rameke demanded.

  “Well, how would a war affect you?” the visitor asked, “think about it.”

  “It won’t. I have a trade business to maintain. I won’t be called to battle.”

  The guy shook his head before harshly stating, “Fool! There will no longer be trade between us and Egypt. You will no longer have caravans to send or plunder, depending on which side of the business you are looking at.”

  “It will never come to that.”

  “Even so, I don’t know how you are going to get out of this one, the king and the pharaoh would not look kindly on this situation. Water, Rameke, I’m waiting.”