Imhotep (52 page)

Then
he and the soldiers who were traveling with him returned to their boats and
headed north to Ineb-Hedj to await the king’s orders.

B
akr slid his tongue across the edges of
his top teeth, stopping when he came to the gap.  Gently he probed the
space with the tip of his tongue.  The raw edges of the gum felt huge and
sore.

The
teeth had been gone three days and the pain was getting worse.

Hearing
footsteps approach from his right, Bakr pressed back against the mud wall and
waited, alert and ready.

The
footsteps grew closer and, recognizing them, Bakr relaxed. It was Abana
bringing the evening meal to Yunet and Diane.

She
gave him a quick smile and then averted her eyes as she entered the hut where
the women were being kept.  Bakr looked after her, wondering why she
hadn’t stopped and then he heard the heavier footsteps.

Siamun’s
face was the same scowling mask of anger he had worn since returning to To-She
with the women a month ago. 

“Where
are they?” he asked, barely breaking his stride.

“Inside,”
Bakr answered quickly, nodding toward the doorway.  “Abana just took them
food.”

Siamun
brushed past him and looked inside.

Bakr heard
Yunet shout at Siamun to leave them alone.  He heard a heavy slap and
Abana ran past him crying and holding her cheek.  Bakr wanted to follow
her and comfort her, but he knew it would only make Siamun angry and then
someone would suffer.

He
felt the empty space in his gum once more.

H
e had been sitting by the fire, eating
with the others, Siamun squatting beside him.  The men had been talking
about a hunt, trading stories, laughing.  Bakr had been quiet, thinking
about his sister Pahket. 

She
had gone to Kom Ombo with the others, but hadn’t returned.

Something
bad had happened at Kom Ombo.  He knew that.  The few men who had
been there and returned with Siamun didn’t talk about it.  They were like
Siamun, rough, angry and unfeeling, but strangely quiet about Kom Ombo.

Naqada
hadn’t returned either.  From the look in the eyes of the men it was clear
something horrible had happened to Naqada.

Siamun
had been as quiet as Bakr, simply staring into the fire, watching the dance of
the flames; lost in whatever world he lived in.

Gathering
his courage, Bakr softly asked, “What happened to Pahket?” He spoke quietly so
the others wouldn’t hear.

Siamun’s
hand had moved too fast for Bakr to react.  He had grabbed a rock by the
edge of the fire and smashed it into Bakr’s mouth, breaking off two teeth and
splitting open his lip.

“You
ask too many questions,” Siamun had said.

D
jefi returned late at night. 

He
went to Siamun’s hut, but found him asleep, broken beer jars lying on the
ground around him.  After kicking him twice without waking him, Djefi
lumbered away, headed for Yunet and Diane.

Bakr,
who was guarding the women, heard Djefi’s heavy breathing as he approached.

He
ducked into the hut and whispered a warning to Neswy, Yunet’s crippled uncle,
who had sneaked in to talk with her.  Neswy hobbled out and got around the
side of the dwelling as Djefi came up the path.

“Greetings,
First Prophet,” Bakr said.

Djefi
was startled.  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I am
guarding Yunet and Diane.  At Siamun’s orders.”

“Guarding? 
Why?  Has something happened?”

“No,
First Prophet.  When Siamun returned, he ordered Yunet and Diane to be
watched.”

Djefi
looked at the ground and shook his head.  “Go home, Bakr.  The women
do not need to be guarded here at To-She.  The time for that was at, oh,
never mind.  I will speak to Siamun in the morning.”

He
waited for Bakr to disappear into the darkness, then he turned and entered the
hut.

The
women were standing against the far wall of the first room.  A low doorway
led to their sleeping chambers.

“Greetings,
brother,” Yunet said, relief in her voice.  “We thought you were Siamun.”

Djefi
wondered what had happened to make Yunet so afraid of Siamun, and how he could
use it to get their help.

Yunet
motioned to a chair and offered Djefi food and beer.

“We
haven’t much, Siamun has not allowed us to leave or to cook here.  We only
have what is brought to us.”

Djefi
waved his hand in dismissal.

“Have
you heard what happened at Kom Ombo?” he asked.

Yunet
shook her head.

“Kanakht
tried to assassinate King Djoser!” he said, his voice rising higher as he
pretended to be offended.  “It was horrible, Yunet.  Fortunately,
Sobek intervened and attacked Kanakht, saving King Djoser.”

“Was
he sitting in the chair?  The one Siamun tied Brian to every night?” Diane
spat.

Djefi
blinked slowly and looked at Diane.  Ever since he and Siamun had killed
his stepfather, no one had ever talked to him with that tone of voice, not
until this strange red-haired woman and her friend had emerged from Kanakht’s
unfinished tomb.

He
glanced at Yunet and saw her face was strained with worry.

“I
have been traveling,” Djefi said. 

“I
don’t know what Siamun was doing at Kom Ombo.  If you remember, I sent him
away when I arrived there.”

“You
didn’t know,” Diane said in English.  “Siamun doesn’t fart unless you tell
him to.  You knew what he was doing.”

Djefi
looked from Diane to Yunet.  “What did she say?” he asked.

“I do
not know, brother.  I haven’t learned her language.”

“I
said I remember.  I will always remember what Siamun did,” Diane said,
speaking in Egyptian.

Djefi
shifted his weight and tried to keep his face impassive.  He needed the
information this woman had.  Djefi would try to persuade Diane to help
him.  If that failed, there was always Siamun.

He turned
back to Yunet.  “Because the attack took place at Kom Ombo, at Sobek’s
temple, King Djoser is angry with me.  With Sobek.”

“Angry? 
But you said Sobek saved the king.”

“Yes. 
But King Djoser was frightened, too frightened to think clearly.  He
associated the attack with the temple, even though Kanakht confessed before he
died.  He whispered something to the king with his dying breath.  I
think he implicated me.”

“Why
would he do that?” Yunet asked.

Djefi
sighed.  It was so hard to make up lies, so much easier to just take what
he wanted.  He looked at Diane, saw defiance in her eyes, and began to
lose his temper.

“It
doesn’t matter, Yunet.  What matters is that I am in disfavor.  All
of us are in disfavor.”

“Because
you plotted to kill the king,” she said.

“Because
Kanakht plotted,” Djefi said, his voice rising.  “You were not there, you
don’t know.”

Yunet
didn’t answer.

Djefi
took a moment to compose himself, but he felt his blood rushing.

“I
want her,” he nodded toward Diane, “to take us to her country, away from Djoser
and his fears.”

Yunet
shook her head.  “She doesn’t know how she got here.  I’ve talked to
her.  Her friend brought her.”

Djefi
stared at her.  “She doesn’t know?  How can she not know?”

Yunet
shrugged.

Djefi
remembered the coldness in King Djoser’s eyes as he untied the cloth around
Kanakht’s leg and forced the blood from the ragged stump.  He closed his
eyes and saw the blood lust in the king’s face as he drove his spear into
Kanakht’s body.

“I
must leave Kemet, Yunet,” he said simply.  He swung around to face
Diane.  “Where did you come from?” he asked.

“America,”
she said.

“Where
is it?  How do we get there?”

Diane
shook her head.  After what Djefi had ordered done to Brian there was no
way she would help him.

Djefi
saw the defiance in her eyes.  “She knows!” he said, taking a step toward
her.  “She knows how to get there.”

Yunet
slipped between them.

“No,
Djefi.  She doesn’t know.  She is angry because of what Siamun did to
Brian.  That’s what you see.  She does not know.”

She
stopped and put her hands against his fat shoulders, but Djefi leaned into her
and pushed her aside.

Diane
slid away, moving toward the low table by the other wall.

Djefi
turned to follow her, but Yunet moved in between. 

“Out
of my way.  She knows and she will tell me,” Djefi shouted.  He
pushed at Yunet, shoving her away.  She stumbled back and hit against the
wall with a groan, but quickly pushed herself away again, grabbing at Djefi’s
arm.

He
whirled on her with surprising speed and slapped her face with his free
hand.  Blood flew from her mouth, but she didn’t let go of his arm.

“Run,
Diane,” she said.

Djefi
slapped her again, harder, jerking her head to the side.  He moved his
hands down to her throat. 

“Shut
up,” he said as he started to choke her.

Remembering
how she had stood by unmoving when Brian was being tortured by Siamun, Diane
took two long steps and jumped on Djefi’s back, digging her fingers into his
eyes.

He
swayed from the weight shift and began to fall backward, letting go of
Yunet.  As he staggered backward and began to topple, Diane slid
free.  He fell heavily to the hard-packed dirt floor, landing on his back
with a loud grunt as the air rushed out of him.  His head snapped back
with a loud thud and he stopped moving.

There
was no sound except for Yunet’s raspy gasps and Diane’s heavy breathing. 
Yunet stared at Djefi’s inert form.

“Is he
dead?” she asked, rubbing her throat and moving toward him.

Diane
ignored Djefi.  “Are you OK?’ she asked Yunet.

Yunet
ducked her head as she swallowed. 

“Yes.”

She
knelt by Djefi.  She placed a hand flat on his chest and felt it
moving.  “He breathes,” she said.  His head lolled to the side and he
groaned.

Yunet
looked up suddenly as she heard a noise at the doorway.  Neswy was looking
in at them, his eyes wide as he saw Djefi on the floor.

“Did
you kill him?  I hope so,” he said.  He glanced over his shoulder and
then entered the hut.

Yunet
shook her heard.  “No, he is breathing and he moaned.”

Neswy
looked from Djefi to Yunet.  “You know you must leave, don’t you?” he
asked.

Yunet
bit her lower lip and nodded.

Djefi’s
head started to move as he began to wake.  Neswy untied his kilt and
gripping the hem with his teeth he tore a strip of linen from it.  Quickly
he dropped beside Djefi and wrapped the cloth around Djefi’s head, gagging
him.  He nodded at the torn kilt as he worked on the gag.  “Tear more
strips,” he said.

T
hey blindfolded Djefi and rolled him onto
his side so they could tie his arms behind his back.  Then they tied his
feet together.

“You
must leave, now,” Neswy whispered to Yunet and Diane.  “Siamun is asleep
so you have a few hours.  I don’t know where you should go, but get as far
from To-She as you can.  Perhaps you can flee to Iunu and seek refuge with
Hetephernebti at the Temple of Re.”

Yunet
looked around the hut.  She grabbed a sack and began to fill it with
bread. 

“I
have a water skin,” Neswy said.  “I will fill it and meet you at the edge
of town.” He took a last look at Djefi, bending down to test the strength of
the linen ties.  “Hurry,” he said as he left the hut.

S
iamun awoke early and went to the canal to
wash.  He was standing in the water, shaking his head dry when Bakr came
up to the canal bank, a frightened look on his face.

“Come
quick, Siamun.  Djefi has been attacked.”

Siamun
splashed his way to land and followed Bakr. They ran through the village to the
hut where Yunet and Diane had been held.

“What
happened?” Siamun shouted as they ran.

“I
went to Yunet’s hut this morning and found First Prophet Djefi there.  He
returned late last night and sent me away so he could speak with Yunet
alone.  This morning, the women are gone and I found First Prophet Djefi
tied and gagged.  I freed him and he sent me to get you.”

They
found Djefi sitting on a stool in the hut, his robe stained with sweat, the
stench of human waste filling the small chamber.  Djefi glared at them,
daring them to comment.