The Poisoner of Ptah Read online

  ‘It must have been murder,’ the standard-bearer declared. ‘Ipuye and his wife the lady Khiat were excellent swimmers, and for both of them to be found drowned in the same place at the same time, face down in a lotus pool…’ Nadif pulled a face.

  ‘But how?’ Hotep exclaimed. ‘I and six other men circled the palisade fence around the pool. Two others guarded the gateway. We saw nothing; we heard nothing except for the sound of splashing, then silence.’

  ‘And?’ Amerotke asked.

  ‘Well, the sun was setting,’ Hotep replied. ‘One of my guards, Saneb, became curious that there was no sign of Lord Ipuye or, indeed, any further sound. He opened the gate and went in.’

  Amerotke held up a hand. ‘Bring that man in,’ he ordered.

  Hotep rose to his feet and left. Amerotke heard him shout, ‘Saneb!’ and a younger man entered. A Kushite, he was as strong and muscular as Hotep, though softer faced and rather nervous in the presence of Amerotke. He simply repeated what Hotep had related: how on that fateful afternoon the sun was setting, the hour growing late. He’d become concerned and anxious so he’d opened the gate to the lotus pool and gone in to discover his master and mistress floating face down in the water.

  ‘Were there any signs of a struggle?’ Amerotke asked. The Kushite shook his head.

  ‘No,’ Nadif agreed. ‘I arrived shortly afterwards. I could detect no sign or mark of violence on the corpses or round the pool.’ The rest concurred with this.

  ‘Food and drink?’ Amerotke asked.

  ‘A jug of charou wine and two half-filled goblets were on a table in the lotus pavilion,’ Nadif replied. ‘I was told they’d not been moved or touched once the corpses were discovered.’

  ‘How can you be sure of that?’ Amerotke asked.

  ‘Lord, the wine was in the shade but still it had begun to dry. I distinctly noticed that. I examined both jug and cups carefully, but there was nothing tainted.’

  ‘Still, it could have been the Rekhet, the Poison Demon,’ Maben spat out. ‘He has escaped. My brother-in-law Ipuye posted a reward on his head. He has returned to wreak his revenge.’

  ‘But how?’ Amerotke asked. ‘How could he get in, steal past the guards, climb that high fence and approach Ipuye and his wife without being detected or raising the alarm? If he was carrying poison, how could he enter that pavilion unnoticed by anyone and taint the wine? And if it was violence … well, Ipuye was no warrior, but he would struggle and resist. Khiat too, she would have screamed, run for help; such violence would be obvious both during and after the event. As to any potion or powder,’ Amerotke continued remorselessly, ‘you’ve heard Standard-Bearer Nadif. Nothing tainted was found, and the corpses betrayed no sign that they’d eaten or drunk something poisoned.’

  ‘Both corpses,’ Nadif replied, ‘were taken late last night to the House of Purification at the Temple of Ptah. I asked the Overseer of the Dead for his opinion; he replied that he needed more time. The embalming might yield some truth, though a superficial examination showed that both Ipuye and Khiat had drowned. He too admitted he’d never heard the like before: two healthy people drowning silently, mysteriously in the same lotus pool at exactly the same time.’

  Amerotke felt tempted to ask Nadif there and then why he was so insistent that both Ipuye and Khiat had been murdered, but decided to leave this until they were alone. Momentarily he speculated on the possibility that one of the victims had drowned and the other died immediately of natural causes, but quickly dismissed the thought: such a coincidence was virtually impossible. Moreover, he was aware of the agitation in Meryet’s face, as if Ipuye’s death was a matter of little consequence and she wanted to discuss something else.

  ‘Why did Ipuye place a reward on the Rekhet’s head?’ Amerotke glanced at Maben.

  ‘I have told you,’ the priest replied.

  ‘Then tell me again.’

  ‘Ipuye’s first wife, our sister Patuna, disappeared during the time of the great poisoning. Ipuye believed she’d been poisoned.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Ipuye liked the ladies,’ Maben whispered, wiping a sweaty streak of dirt from his face. ‘Perhaps one of them reasoned that if Patuna disappeared or died…’

  ‘Ah, I see.’ Amerotke smiled thinly; he’d heard of similar cases in the city. ‘One of these ladies might have aspired to become Ipuye’s second wife. Could Khiat have been one of these?’

  ‘I doubt it!’ Meryet scoffed. ‘Khiat was only in her sixteenth year when she married Ipuye, twelve at the time of the great poisoning. I don’t think she and Ipuye had even met. However, I don’t believe,’ she continued in a rush, glancing sideways at her brother, ‘that Patuna ran away. True, she wasn’t happy; who would be with Ipuye’s womanising? Of course she protested about it.’ Meryet ran a hand across her dust-strewn shoulder. ‘Whatever,’ she whispered, ‘the judgment of Seth has been carried out, the day of reckoning, life for life.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ Amerotke demanded.

  ‘Patuna did not run away!’ Meryet’s voice rose. ‘She was murdered by Ipuye! She was even denied the right to go peacefully into the Far West; she lies buried somewhere here, in a hole, an unmarked grave.’ She scrambled to her feet, knocking aside her brother’s restraining hand. ‘I shall prove that, Lord Judge.’

  ‘My lady,’ Amerotke also stood up, ‘I must ask where you were when Ipuye died.’

  ‘Lord Judge, I was with you at the Temple of Ptah. I saw those scribes choke to death. I went with my brother Maben to the ceremony. I was present as a special guest in the Pavilion of Restfulness to the right at the foot of the steps. Ask the royal chamberlains, they will attest to that.’

  ‘Sit down,’ Amerotke ordered.

  Meryet looked as if she was about to refuse, dark eyes smouldering, her lips no more than a thin bloodless line.

  ‘Please,’ Amerotke added. ‘I must know what you mean.’

  ‘Ipuye liked the ladies.’ Meryet slumped down on the cushions. ‘I think he just grew tired of our sister and what he called her nagging, her constant remonstrations, her tantrums and her anger. He wanted someone young and fresh like Khiat, so he killed Patuna and buried her somewhere here in what he called his paradise.’

  Maben closed his eyes, a sign that he was tired of his sister’s constant ranting.

  ‘But, mistress,’ Hotep broke in, ‘that cannot be true. Ipuye was away when the lady Patuna disappeared. He was doing business in Memphis.’

  ‘Was he? Then he hired someone else!’ she spat back.

  ‘What exactly happened?’ Amerotke asked.

  ‘My sister was unhappy,’ Meryet retorted, again knocking away Maben’s hand. ‘Ipuye had his mistresses, women of the city. Naturally, my sister was distressed. Ipuye ignored her. Anyway, he went off on business to Memphis, probably with a whore or two. A few days later Maben and I … I remember it well.’ Meryet’s voice grew strident. ‘It was before the brilliant hour, the first light of day. We went on to the roof of the house because it was the height of Shemsu, the hot season, when Amun’s breath is so pleasing.’ She wiped her dusty face, as if imagining the cool morning breeze. ‘We expected Patuna to join us, but she never did, so I went looking for her. I could not find her in the garden, so I visited her chamber.’ She paused, fighting back a sob. ‘It was clean and tidy, but on the floor were the burnt remains of her wedding collarette and marriage bracelet.’

  ‘But that’s what happens when a couple divorce!’ Amerotke intervened. ‘They declare their marriage vows null and void, and the marriage insignia are burnt.’

  ‘Patuna must have done that before running away,’ Maben hastily intervened.

  ‘Was anything missing?’

  Meryet shook her head. ‘Nothing, nothing at all,’ she declared. ‘Oh, Lord Judge, others claim that Patuna ran away. That she must have had friends in the city, merchants and traders with whom she could have hidden money, which she then collected, swearing them to silence.’

  ‘Did she l
eave anything else?’ Amerotke demanded.

  ‘A scrap of papyrus,’ Maben declared, ‘lines from a poem.’ The priest closed his eyes. ‘I have gone, I will not return. Think not ill of me, but let the memories…’

  ‘Sweeten your soul,’ Amerotke finished for him. ‘A beautiful poem, I know it well.’

  ‘We sent messages to the master,’ Hotep intervened. ‘I and others searched the countryside but there was no sign of the lady Patuna. The same was true in the city. Whatever anyone says, my mistress had not gone there. No shopkeeper, trader or merchant had any knowledge of her. My master hastened home. He too joined in the search, he was distraught. He hired the Scourers; my lord, you know who they are?’

  Amerotke nodded. The Scourers were a guild of searchers who, for a price, would comb Thebes and its surrounding countryside for anything or anyone.

  ‘Nothing,’ Hotep declared in a deep, carrying voice.

  ‘Now all this occurred during the time of the great poisoning,’ Maben intervened. ‘My brother-in-law eventually concluded that Patuna had been one of its victims.’

  ‘But he had no proof of that?’

  ‘None whatsoever, so he posted a reward, a lavish one, ounous of gold and silver and a pouch of precious stones for the person who trapped the Rekhet.’

  ‘And when he was caught?’ Amerotke moved on his cushion. His throat was dry, but he dared not break with etiquette and ask for a beaker of water.

  ‘My brother-in-law,’ Maben replied, ‘gave the reward to Ani, High Priest of Ptah, as a gift to the temple, the fulfilment of his promise to the divinity of the Man God.’

  ‘When the Rekhet was captured,’ Nadif added, ‘he was interrogated about Patuna. Of course, he denied any knowledge of her.’

  ‘But you don’t believe all this?’ Amerotke pointed at Meryet. ‘You maintain Ipuye was responsible, so I ask you again, where is your proof?’

  Meryet tapped her chest. ‘Just a feeling here, a suspicion. Patuna would not run away. As for the Rekhet, my sister has disappeared, not been poisoned, there’s no evidence for that.’

  ‘You do Ipuye and his memory an injustice,’ Maben whispered. ‘My lord,’ the priest leaned forward, ‘Ipuye was undoubtedly a man of the flesh, yet he was kind. He offered rooms here to both Meryet and myself, and even when Patuna disappeared, he insisted that we stay.’

  ‘So who will inherit this beautiful mansion?’ Shufoy, who looked as if he had been asleep through the entire proceedings, now stirred, bright eyed and smiling as he looked round the circle.

  ‘My friend,’ Amerotke declared slowly, as if measuring his words carefully, ‘asked an important question. Who does inherit?’

  Maben coughed and cleared his throat. ‘My lord, the Temple of Ptah does. In his testament, Ipuye willed that if he died without wife or heir, everything should go to the Lord God as an atatau – a divine gift to Ptah.’

  Amerotke nodded understandingly. Such bequests were common; little wonder the temples of Karnak prospered like the cedars of Lebanon. By now his throat was so dry he decided to dispense with protocol.

  ‘My lady,’ he bowed towards Meryet, ‘my throat is as gritty as a piece of sand. A little water, please.’

  She smiled, her face becoming soft and pretty, then rose to her feet and scurried out of the hall.

  Amerotke turned to Maben. ‘What was the relationship like between Ipuye and Meryet? I mean before Patuna disappeared?’

  ‘They were friends.’ Maben shrugged. ‘Sister-in-law, brother-in-law, we dined and wined, we went into the city. Very friendly.’

  ‘And afterwards?’

  ‘Cool.’ Maben chose his words carefully. ‘Formal. They spoke, but in the main they tended to avoid each other.’

  ‘Was there any violence between them either by word or act?’

  ‘Oh no,’ Maben shook his head, ‘nothing like that. More like envoys who are enemies but have decided to hide it for the sake of harmony.’

  ‘In between the disappearance of Patuna and the death of Ipuye, did anything happen in this house,’ Amerotke pointed at Maben, ‘that could have had a bearing on these dreadful deaths?’

  Maben closed his eyes for a while, thinking hard. When he opened them, he was looking directly at Amerotke. ‘Nothing, my lord. It wasn’t the happiest of households, but after his marriage to Khiat, Ipuye seemed content enough.’

  ‘And this occurred…?’

  ‘About a year ago. He and Khiat appeared deeply in love with each other, nothing else mattered.’

  Amerotke fell silent as Meryet returned with a tray of beakers, each containing a little water. They all drank gratefully. Amerotke drained his and placed it back on the tray.

  ‘So, my lady, you accuse Ipuye of being behen?’ Amerotke used the official legal term for being murderous.

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘But you have no proof?’

  Meryet stared coolly back.

  ‘Be that as it may,’ Amerotke sighed, ‘we have Ipuye’s death in mysterious circumstances.’

  ‘Perhaps it was dire accident,’ Shufoy declared. ‘An act of Shai the God of Luck.’

  Nadif shook his head vigorously. Amerotke secretly wondered why the standard-bearer had decided to be particularly stubborn. Or was he, Amerotke, just trying to smooth matters over? The Divine One had sent a messenger who’d been waiting for him outside the House of the Golden Vine when he arrived earlier. The messenger had expressed the Divine One’s deep displeasure at Ipuye’s death whilst reminding Amerotke how Ipuye had been ‘a friend of Pharaoh who had basked in her smile’. In other words, Amerotke ruefully concluded, Ipuye had supported Hatusu amongst the Powerful Ones of Thebes as well as donated gold and silver to the House of Treasure.

  ‘Look,’ Amerotke used his fingers to emphasise his points, ‘first, the lotus pool is surrounded by a high blackthorn palisade, which even a skilled climber would find difficult to scale, yes?’

  Nadif agreed.

  ‘Second, the palisade and the gate were guarded by Hotep and his men, yet no one reported anything untoward. Third, there was no one in the house apart from servants, Lady Meryet and Lord Maben being at the Temple of Ptah, and everything was quiet.’ Again a low murmur of agreement greeted his words. ‘Fourth, Ipuye and Khiat drank untainted wine, we’ve established that.’ Amerotke felt flustered. Here he was in this beautiful hall trying to establish the truth of these abrupt, mysterious deaths. Nadif claimed it was murder, Meryet the Judgment of Seth, whilst Maben called it an unfortunate accident.

  ‘I have questioned enough,’ Amerotke abruptly declared. ‘Let’s go out and see for ourselves.’

  They all rose and left by the main door out into the glorious paradise. Amerotke stood on the top step of the house and savoured the cool breeze. He stared around: the garden was a most beautiful place, a pageant of green grass and lush trees. Brilliantly coloured birds darted and swooped. Fragrant smells wafted across from the flowerbeds, fountains splashed, pools glittered. The garden still enjoyed the morning freshness, a refreshing, inviting place where it would be so easy to lie in the shade and forget the troubles of the world. Amerotke, lost in his own thoughts, walked down and stood beside the fishpond near to the house, where golden carp darted amongst the greenery. His sons would love such a place!

  ‘My lord?’ Hotep’s voice was harsh. The Kushite pointed across the garden. ‘I will take you there.’

  They walked across the lawn, the grass still cool underfoot, and entered a line of trees. Hotep paused and explained how these trees, clustered so thickly together, screened the palisade around the lotus pool. They threaded their way through, climbing the slight hill, then left the trees and crossed a green verge towards a soaring black fence. Amerotke reckoned it was higher than he’d thought, at least four yards. The blackthorn strips had been carefully woven and would provide no easy grip; as he had thought, even an experienced climber would find it difficult to scale. Hotep explained how the fence ringed the lotus pool and led him along the palisade
towards the wicket gate. This was as high as the fence but of lighter wood and held shut by a clasp. Hotep undid this, swung the gates open and Amerotke entered.

  Like the rest of the garden, the pool enclosure was exquisitely fragrant, a ring of green grass stretching to coloured tiles, then the pool itself at least three yards across and eighteen long. At either end of it stood a sun pavilion of dark wood painted to resist the heat and enhanced with climbing flowers. Hotep indicted the one Ipuye had used. Amerotke walked towards it, then paused, staring down at the clear water. The lotus pool was fed by a rivulet, the water being siphoned off through another canal, ensuring that those who swam there always did so in the coolest, purest pool. Amerotke noticed the lapis lazuli dust strewn on the tiles around the pool. He entered the sun pavilion: a small porch led into a luxurious inner room with vents in the wooden wall to provide fresh air and light. He sniffed carefully. Ipuye had cleared it of insects by grinding flea bane with charcoal, as Amerotke’s wife did, then masked this with pots of perfume containing a mixture of frankincense, myrrh, cinnamon bark and other herbs boiled in honey. The furniture was simple but refined: folding chairs and stools; a couch; acacia-wood tables with ornamental tops; carved, gable-lidded caskets and coffers containing fresh linen cloths; unguents and phials of perfume with which Ipuye and Khiat would anoint themselves after their bathing, all neatly clustered on a table. Amerotke stared around. Had murder really taken place here? He told the others to stay outside the pavilion and invited Nadif in by himself, Shufoy guarding the door against any eavesdropper.