Scroll of Saqqara(194)

Going to her cosmetic table she opened a box and drew out the copper razor Bakmut used to shave her body hair. It was very sharp, and she drew the blade across her thumb reflectively. What was it Father said so long ago? she wondered. If you want to slit your wrists, do not pull the blade across the flesh. You will not damage the arteries sufficiently. Dig the knife lengthwise for a full and copious flow of blood. That way you will be beyond help. Beyond help … It was all a game, she thought dully, the razor poised. He pretended to understand me, pretended to love me, and all the times we made love he was laughing at me, forcing himself, repulsed by my body. Oh curse him, curse him! And curse me for a simpering fool. I should have known that no man as beautiful as he would be attracted to such a homely girl as I am.

She longed to be able to plunge the innocuous, gleaming blade into her flesh, to feel the moment of pain, to see her blood spurt, but she could not make the savage, self-destructive movement required. No one will care, that is the thing, she thought coldly. Not Father, not Mother, and Hori is battling his own death. No one will be hurt by my dying, and Tbubui would simply smile. I brought this on myself. I never did deserve to be happy and I will spend the rest of my life reminding myself of that fact. These four walls will be my witnesses.

“Bakmut!” she called, tossing the razor onto the couch. After a moment her servant appeared, blinking sleepily. “Bring me the scroll from Pharaoh.” Bakmut nodded and shuffled away, and a moment later she returned, holding out the tightly wound message. Sheritra took it and, breaking the seal, unrolled it. “To my dear grandson, Hori, greetings and fond felicitations,” she read. “Having taken your news under advisement and having consulted my Minister for Hereditary Entitlements, I have decided to investigate your allegations. Expect a person of authority to arrive in Memphis within two weeks. Know also that I am most displeased with the antics of your family and I will take the necessary steps to ensure peace in Memphis and on your father’s estate. I am your august grandfather, Ramses the Second, etc., etc.” Sheritra let the scroll roll up with a strangled laugh. None of it mattered anymore. “Bakmut,” she said to the patiently waiting servant, “from now on I do not intend to leave my suite. No one is to enter. I do not wish to speak to anyone. Is that understood?” The girl nodded warily and Sheritra dismissed her. Very good, she thought as she lowered herself onto the couch and drew the sheet up over her shoulders. Bakmut will believe it is a whim until the time goes by, and the time goes by … She relaxed into her pillow and closed her eyes. Gullible, she thought. Scrawny. Virgins bore me …

With a muffled cry she squeezed her eyes shut and drew her knees up to her small breasts. No one will ever hurt me again, she vowed against the agonizing mental images flooding her brain. No one. Overcome with grief, she slept.





22

Behold me as a dog of the street,

as a sign unto gods and men am I:

struck down by his hand,

for I had wrought evil in his sight.


KHAEMWASET EXISTED in a state of shock as servant after servant came to him to admit that Hori could not be found. The estate was extensive, and searching every nook and cranny took a long time. Nevertheless Khaemwaset was mystified. Hori had been obviously near collapse when escorted to his quarters. He could not imagine that the weak, exhausted youth would have been able to kill one soldier and wound another so grievously that he was not expected to live. Khaemwaset himself had attended the man, but there had been little he could do, and as he worked he had marvelled at the damage inflicted. Hori must have been desperate, he thought, but to do what? Not to burst into Tbubui’s suite with whatever knife he used on the first guard, for no one had caught so much as a glimpse of him near the concubines’ house. In fact, no one had seen him at all.

Khaemwaset had gone to Sheritra’s rooms himself, reasoning that Hori might be hiding there, but the girl’s body servant assured him his daughter was sleeping and there had been no sign of the Prince. Antef likewise had been no help. He had seemed genuinely alarmed and puzzled at the news of his friend’s disappearance, and when Khaemwaset had wanted to interrogate him an hour later, he himself was nowhere to be found.

Then a report came to him that the skiff was missing. He had the watersteps guard brought to him and the terrified man confessed that, having imbibed too much wine before taking his duty, he had fallen asleep. The Prince could indeed have crept past him. Khaemwaset dismissed him on the spot. I cannot have the whole city searched, he thought wearily. Perhaps Hori has gone north to Nubnofret. That idea gave Khaemwaset some relief. It was good to imagine Hori safely tucked away in the Delta, at least for the time being. Until Tbubui’s baby is born, he thought darkly. Then I will have to act. If Sheritra had not been so clumsy the problem would already be solved, but it does not matter. Father’s court is a populous place, full of intrigue and activity. A poisoning will not be so noticeable there. In the meantime I am free to enjoy my darling in peace. Both the troublemakers have gone. Sheritra will marry Harmin and he will come and occupy Hori’s old quarters. Perhaps Sisenet will decide to move in also, and the eyes of the people around me will no longer be hostile with accusations.