Death Comes as the End

Yahmose’s gentle face lighted up.

‘Yes, that will indeed be good.’

‘All is in order for him? Affairs have prospered?’

‘My father’s instructions have been carried out as well as I could compass them.’

‘What of Ipy?’

Yahmose sighed.

‘My father is over-indulgent where that boy is concerned. It is not good for the lad.’

‘You must make that clear to Imhotep.’

Yahmose looked doubtful.

Esa said firmly: ‘I will back you up.’

‘Sometimes,’ said Yahmose, sighing, ‘there seems to be nothing but difficulties. But everything will be right when my father comes. He can make his own decisions then. It is hard to act as he would wish in his absence—especially when I have no authority, and only act as his delegate.’

Esa said slowly:

‘You are a good son—loyal and affectionate. You have been a good husband too, you have obeyed the proverb that says that a man should love his wife and make a home for her, that he should fill her belly and put clothes on her back, and provide expensive ointments for her toilet and that he should gladden her heart as long as she lives. But there is a further precept—it goes like this: Prevent her from getting the mastery. If I were you, grandson, I should take that precept to heart …’

Yahmose looked at her, flushed deeply and turned away.

CHAPTER 3 (#ulink_b7ddaf92-738d-557b-b393-f466c42f807e)

Third Month of Inundation 14th Day (#ulink_b7ddaf92-738d-557b-b393-f466c42f807e)

Everywhere there was bustle and preparation. Hundreds of loaves had been baked in the kitchen, now ducks were roasting; there was a smell of leeks and garlic and various spices. Women were shouting and giving orders, serving men ran to and fro.

Everywhere ran the murmur:

‘The master—the master is coming …’

Renisenb, helping to weave garlands of poppies and lotus flowers, felt an excited happiness bubbling up in her heart. Her father was coming home! In the last few weeks she had slipped imperceptibly back into the confines of her old life. That first sense of unfamiliarity and strangeness, induced in her, she believed, by Hori’s words, had gone. She was the same Renisenb—Yahmose, Satipy, Sobek and Kait were all the same—now, as in the past, there was all the bustle and fuss of preparations for Imhotep’s return. Word had come ahead that he would be with them before nightfall. One of the servants had been posted on the river bank to give warning of the master’s approach, and suddenly his voice rang out loud and clear giving the agreed call.

Renisenb dropped her flowers and ran out with the others. They all hastened towards the mooring place on the river bank. Yahmose and Sobek were already there in a little crowd of villagers, fishermen and farm labourers, all calling out excitedly and pointing.

Yes, there was the barge with its great square sail coming fast up the river with the North wind bellying out the sail. Close behind it was the kitchen barge crowded with men and women. Presently Renisenb could make out her father sitting holding a lotus flower and with him someone whom she took to be a singer.

The cries on the bank redoubled, Imhotep waved a welcoming hand, the sailors were heaving and pulling on the halyards. There were cries of ‘Welcome to the master,’ calls upon the Gods, and thanks for his safe return, and a few moments later Imhotep came ashore, greeting his family and answering the loud salutations that etiquette demanded.

‘Praise be to Sobek, the child of Neith, who has brought you safely on the water!’ ‘Praise be to Ptah, south of the Memphite wall, who brings you to us! Thanks be to Ré who illumines the Two Lands!’

Renisenb pressed forward, intoxicated with the general excitement.

Imhotep drew himself up importantly and suddenly Renisenb thought: ‘But he is a small man. I thought of him as much bigger than that.’

A feeling that was almost dismay passed over her.

Had her father shrunk? Or was her own memory at fault? She thought of him as rather a splendid being, tyrannical, often fussy, exhorting everybody right and left, and sometimes provoking her to quiet inward laughter, but nevertheless a personage. But this small, stout, elderly man, looking so full of his own importance and yet somehow failing to impress—what was wrong with her? What were these disloyal thoughts that came into her head?

Imhotep, having finished the sonorous and ceremonial phrases, had arrived at the stage of more personal greetings. He embraced his sons.

‘Ah, my good Yahmose, all smiles, you have been diligent in my absence, I am sure … And Sobek, my handsome son, still given to merriness of heart, I see. And here is Ipy—my dearest Ipy—let me look at you—stand away—so. Grown bigger, more of a man, how it rejoices my heart to hold you again! And Renisenb—my dear daughter—once more in the home. Satipy, Kait, my no less dear daughters … And Henet—my faithful Henet—’

Henet was kneeling, embracing his knees, and ostentatiously wiping tears of joy from her eyes.

‘It is good to see you, Henet—you are well—happy? As devoted as ever—that is pleasant to the heart …

‘And my excellent Hori, so clever with his accounts and his pen! All has prospered? I am sure it has.’

Then, the greetings finished and the surrounding murmur dying down, Imhotep raised his hand for silence and spoke out loud and clear.

‘My sons and daughters—friends. I have a piece of news for you. For many years, as you all know, I have been a lonely man in one respect. My wife (your mother, Yahmose and Sobek) and my sister (your mother, Ipy) have both gone to Osiris many years ago. So to you, Satipy and Kait, I bring a new sister to share your home. Behold, this is my concubine, Nofret, whom you shall love for my sake. She has come with me from Memphis in the North and will dwell here with you when I go away again.’

As he spoke he drew forward a woman by the hand. She stood there beside him, her head flung back, her eyes narrowed, young, arrogant and beautiful.

Renisenb thought, with a shock of surprise: ‘But she’s quite young—perhaps not as old as I am.’

Nofret stood quite still. There was a faint smile on her lips—it had more derision in it than any anxiety to please.

She had very straight black brows and a rich bronze skin, and her eyelashes were so long and thick that one could hardly see her eyes.

The family, taken aback, stared in dumb silence. With a faint edge of irritation in his voice, Imhotep said:

‘Come now, children, welcome Nofret. Don’t you know how to greet your father’s concubine when he brings her to his house?’

Haltingly and stumblingly the greetings were given.

Imhotep, affecting a heartiness that perhaps concealed some uneasiness, exclaimed cheerfully:

‘That’s better! Nofret, Satipy and Kait and Renisenb will take you to the women’s quarters. Where are the trunks? Have the trunks been brought ashore?’

The round-topped travelling trunks were being carried from the barge. Imhotep said to Nofret:

‘Your jewels and your clothes are here safely. Go and see to their bestowing.’

Then, as the women moved away together, he turned to his sons.

‘And what of the estate? Does all go well?’

‘The lower fields that were rented to Nakht—’ began Yahmose, but his father cut him short.

‘No details now, good Yahmose. They can wait. Tonight is rejoicing. Tomorrow you and I and Hori here will get to business. Come, Ipy, my boy, let us walk to the house. How tall you have grown—your head is above mine.’