Orphan of the Sun, page 22
The crowd was still as the foreman stepped forward. After a deep bow to the vizier, he went over all that he had expressed before the kenbet: his appointment by the former vizier, his faithful service to the government, his belief in fairness and maat for the men. ‘I do not encourage my men to be wasteful,’ he acknowledged. ‘If there is still life in the tools, then I insist that they use them. It is too easy to blame a blunt tool for idleness.’
There was a murmur among the workers in the crowd, and Meryt sensed anger in their midst. She began to see that Nebnufer did not have goodwill on his side. Userkaf and his followers were muttering, but she knew that not even the likes of Kenna’s father liked to be accused of idleness. The grumblings grew louder as Nebnufer tried to carry on.
‘Quiet!’ cried the chief of the Medjay.
‘As for the bag of tools,’ said Nebnufer, when the hubbub had died down. ‘I have no need of them. I have a farm in the valley where I smelt tools of my own. Recently I held a party for my men, and I believe the tools were brought into the house on that night.’
The grumblings began to rise again as Nebnufer spread his hands before the vizier. ‘That is all I have to say, my lord.’
Nebnufer retreated back to Wab’s side and the vizier looked across at Sennedjem.
‘These are all the witnesses, my lord,’ said the second foreman. ‘The case is complete.’
The vizier frowned. ‘Is no one going to speak in favour of the king’s foreman?’ he asked. ‘He has served for eleven years. Are there no witnesses who can answer for him?’
Meryt felt her limbs begin to tremble. Where were Kha and Nofret? She looked around, scanning the crowd, but there was no sign of either. Had her plan completely failed? Perhaps she should stand herself, and tell the court what she knew … She swallowed as Sennedjem spoke.
‘My fellow foreman has been my friend and ally all these years,’ he said, his voice tinged with sadness. ‘I believe him to be a good and honest man. But in the matter of these tools I cannot speak, for I know nothing of them.’ He scanned the crowd, his expression hopeful. ‘People of Set Maat, you hear what the vizier is asking. Is there no one who can defend the man accused?’
Kenna looked at Meryt in amazement as she began to rise to her feet. ‘Meryt …!’
But then she stopped, for out of the corner of her eye she saw a movement – a man, elbowing his way forward. She breathed a sigh of relief, for it was Kha.
‘Workman Kha,’ said Sennedjem in surprise, as the painter made his way into the square. ‘What do you have to say?’
Kha bowed both to the foreman and the vizier. ‘My lord the vizier – life, prosperity, health,’ he started. ‘I come with a confession and a plea for forgiveness from the gods.’
Meryt held her breath until she thought her lungs would burst.
‘What Userkaf says is true,’ continued the painter. ‘Nebnufer works us hard and does not like to supply us with new tools. The Guardian of the Tools is forced to listen to him and we resent his interference. But that is where the truth of his story ends.’
There was a gasp as the crowd took his words in. Meryt saw Userkaf exclaiming angrily to his friends, but the chief of the Medjay called the court to order.
Kha carried on. ‘For many months there has been a plan to usurp Nebnufer. One man has been at the heart of it, and that is Userkaf.’
Another gasp. Meryt let out her breath slowly, for she could hardly believe that her plan was beginning to work.
‘Those who did not agree were bought by Userkaf with bribes. He has promised much and given much, though I cannot name the source of his wealth. All I can do …’ he paused, and looked around, beads of sweat standing out on his face. ‘All I can do is tell you the source of the tools. I know that Nebnufer did not steal them. The thief was Userkaf. They were placed in Nebnufer’s house on the night of his party – as Nebnufer has claimed.’
The words hung in the air amidst a thick silence. Kha’s confession was sensational, and even the vizier now sat on the edge of the seat.
‘And how can you be sure of this?’ asked the vizier. ‘How do you know that they came from Userkaf’s house?’
Kha looked as though he might topple over. He wiped his forehead. ‘May the gods and the king forgive me,’ he murmured, and touched the amulets that he wore around his wrists. ‘I know, my lord, because I fetched them myself.’
This time his words were met with a roar, and Meryt felt faint. She had been wrong. She had made a mistake. She had misinterpreted her dream for she had never, ever anticipated this. She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of the night of the party. Kha had been there at the start with his wife … he had brought her the cup of water … and then … and then he had disappeared …
She opened her eyes again as the vizier’s voice spoke above the crowd. ‘Tell us more of the bribes,’ he said.
‘I received nothing,’ said Kha. Meryt breathed out. So she had been right about that, at least. ‘I wanted Nebnufer gone and I was happy to see Userkaf replace him. But I did not want to anger the gods by taking a bribe, for I felt that the wealth on offer was tainted. But Userkaf demanded an act of loyalty. So I carried the tools to Nebnufer’s party while Userkaf caused a distraction.’
The vizier’s eyes were blazing. He stood, and the crowd grew quiet. ‘Villagers of Set Maat!’ he cried. ‘I have never heard of such corruption in your midst. And yet perhaps there is more. Perhaps there are many who have accepted a bribe. But if there are bribes, the wealth must come from somewhere.’
He gazed around at the crowd, raising his hand and pointing at random villagers, who quailed and looked away.
‘I know where it comes from.’
The thin, small voice seemed to rise in the air from nowhere. Who said that? Where? could be heard around the crowd, but Meryt already knew. She looked straight at the thickest part of the gathering, which was slowly parting to reveal a small, cowering figure. It was Nofret.
Userkaf gave a bellow from the sidelines. ‘That useless scrap of a servant!’ he screamed. But he was helpless to stop her now. The Medjay held him back as she walked forward timidly to stand in front of the vizier.
At the sight of the scrawny twelve-year-old girl, a silence fell. The court officials stared at her in disbelief, though none seemed more amazed than the vizier himself. Without a bow or a greeting, she launched into a speech.
‘I don’t care what you do to me,’ she said, her voice high and shaky. ‘I have suffered enough as a slave for the last five years. My first master beat me daily. I was bought from him by Userkaf, who does not beat me but makes me work double the time, both in his home and in the embalmers’ workshops.’
The vizier shrugged, for this was nothing unusual. But Nofret looked around. As she realised how carefully the crowd was listening to her, she drew herself up taller, and her eyes began to spark with anger. ‘What he has done is the cruellest of all,’ she carried on, her voice becoming shrill and piercing. ‘He promised me freedom. He promised me land of my own. And I believed him.’ She turned to face him, pointing at him with her bony finger. ‘You thought I was stupid, Userkaf,’ she said, and tears began to fall down her cheeks. ‘And you were right. I did what you wanted me to do because I didn’t see that you would never keep your promises.’
‘And what did he want you to do?’ The vizier’s voice broke through the murmur of the crowd, stilling it.
‘I stole from the embalmers’ workshops,’ said Nofret. ‘Amulets. Golden amulets. I knew how to access the stores because my father had taught me how to steal as a child.’ She stood with her shoulders shaking, a poor, broken figure of a girl, wracked with sobs. ‘I gave the amulets to my master and he sold them to passing traders. That is all I know.’
Meryt found that her whole body was tense. She was clutching Kenna’s wrist, so tightly that he had to gently prise off her fingers. She met his gaze briefly and saw the wonder in his eyes as the truth of the tale unfolded.
‘You say your father was a thief,’ commented the vizier, raising his eyebrows.
Nofret nodded, wiping the tears off her cheeks with her arm and sniffing loudly. ‘I don’t care about that either. He may have been a thief, but I loved him. And now you will send me to join him in the Next World.’
She bowed her head, almost as though she expected to be whipped upon the spot. There was a moment of uncertainty. No one seemed sure what to do. And then Sennedjem stood, and walked over to the servant girl. He placed a hand upon her shoulder and led her back towards his own chair, and told her to stand there next to him.
He addressed the vizier. ‘I believe that is all, my lord,’ he said. ‘We can adjourn.’
The crowd stirred and shuffled and rearranged themselves while the vizier and his officials were led through the village gate to the house of Sennedjem, where they would be attended on by his sons and servants while they discussed the case and came to a decision.
Meryt saw Nebnufer and his family being escorted back to their house. To her satisfaction, she also noticed that all the witnesses were being guarded by members of the Medjay. She hoped that, at last, the forces of maat were holding sway.
She and Kenna decided to keep their places by the edge of the square. The vizier was a busy man; they would not have to wait all day.
‘They say he is a merciful vizier,’ murmured Kenna, at her side.
Meryt nodded. ‘I hope it is true.’ It was impossible to avoid the verdicts that would soon be made – and the punishments that would follow. She still felt nervous, despite the testimonies of both Kha and Nofret, for so much had come to light so suddenly that she did not know what the vizier would make of it. She feared for Kha, and thought once more of her dream – there he stood on the hilltop, dressed in rags … she had been wrong about some of it. Might she be wrong about his punishment too?
‘Anyone would think it was you who was on trial,’ said Kenna. She looked up and saw that he was studying her. ‘You are shaking, Meryt.’
‘I … I have much to tell you, Kenna,’ she said. ‘These past weeks have taught me so much.’
He nodded. ‘I know.’ He smiled at her gently. ‘I have seen it. I would like to understand, but I fear that it is beyond me. I am only a simple messenger.’
‘You are far more than that!’ The words escaped Meryt’s lips before she could stop them. ‘I don’t know what I would do without you.’
‘Perhaps you would lean on Ramose,’ said Kenna, with a lopsided grin.
Meryt stared at him. Even now, he spoke of it so lightly! How would he respond when he knew that the marriage was not taking place? She opened her mouth to tell him when the blast of a fanfare sounded and drowned out the words as they formed on her lips.
Some of the villagers had drifted away from the square and were chattering together in little groups. Now, they hurried back, jostling for position as the vizier’s entourage appeared once more. One group of Medjay officers stepped forward with Nebnufer and his family, while another prodded Userkaf and his friends to the edge of the square. Kha and Nofret had a guard of their own and stood together.
The vizier took his seat, and Sennedjem stood to address the crowd.
‘People of Set Maat – life, prosperity, health!’ he began. ‘The vizier has reached his conclusions. Listen, and receive the rule of maat at his hand.’
A deathly silence fell. Somewhere in the village, a donkey brayed, its squeaking call echoing along the cliffs. A gust of wind flapped the vizier’s tunic, and he brushed an arm across his eyes, frowning at the dust. And then he stood.
‘People of Set Maat,’ he said, ‘I have considered the case of Nebnufer your foreman. He works hard, and he demands the same of his men. But I see nothing in him that is not fair and true.’
The crowd gasped and muttered, then grew quiet again as the vizier raised his hand.
‘I do not find him guilty of this theft. A foreman he is, and a foreman he will remain.’
The gasps grew louder, and Meryt’s eyes filled with tears of happiness. She looked over at Nebnufer and his family. The foreman and his wife stood tall, dignified in justice just as they had been in accusation. But Dedi, Meryt saw, was leaning on her brother Ahmose, weeping with relief.
‘Bring forth the witnesses!’ Sennedjem’s voice called out.
The Medjay pushed forward Userkaf and the vizier regarded him coldly.
‘I have heard your complaints, Userkaf the draughtsman,’ he said. ‘You are an ambitious man and your greed has been your downfall. I might not have believed your servant girl, but for this: I was at the embalmers’ workshops only this morning. The loss of amulets has not gone unnoticed.’
He paused, and Meryt lowered her gaze. There was a glint of something hard and cruel in the great man’s face that she could not bear to look upon any longer.
‘You have stolen from the king’s officials. You have stolen from the Great Place. You have tried to bring down a man appointed by my office. These are heavy crimes for which you must be punished.’
It was as though the whole crowd were holding its breath. Meryt still could not look up. She felt sick.
‘Take him out into the desert and impale him on a stake.’
The silence was broken by a woman’s wail, howling across the square. Meryt glanced upwards, and caught a glimpse of the wife of Userkaf hurling herself across the reed matting towards her husband, who had fallen to his knees in shock. The Medjay grabbed her and dragged her away. Others pulled Userkaf to his feet. Meryt forced herself to watch as the draughtsman was led away and his followers were brought before the vizier as a group.
‘Cut off their ears!’ he cried. ‘That will teach them not to listen to troublemakers!’ The crowd gasped again, then sighed and breathed easier, relieved that it was their ears and not their lives that they were losing.
And then it was Kha’s turn. The vizier eyed him with interest, playing with the fat gold rings that adorned his fingers, then rubbing his hands together. ‘Kha. Painter Kha. You are an interesting case,’ he said. ‘You chose to aid the ringleader and then you thought better of it.’ He stroked his chin. ‘I cannot decide if you are a coward or a man of courage. A thief or an honest man. To be punished or rewarded.’
Meryt was looking away again. This was too much. She was glad she was seated for she was sure her legs would not support her if she stood.
‘I tend to think you should be punished so that you do not make the same mistake again. One hundred lashes!’
Meryt felt dizzy. She had never imagined that Kha would be punished. She had been so sure of his innocence. He has been pardoned by his god. What did this mean, if not that he would walk away untouched? But then she thought of what he had done, and knew that his punishment was light. A hundred lashes could be endured and he would return to his work in the tombs, a poor man, but alive – scarred – but free …
She made herself look up again to see Nofret step forward, her thin face pinched and tight with fear. Meryt’s eyes blurred with tears and she bit her lip, blinking them away to see the expression on the face of the vizier.
There was a faint sneer on his lips. Rather than stand, he sat back down on his seat, and looked Nofret up and down. He eyed her scrawny body with disdain.
‘I have better things to do than deal with servant girls,’ he said, with a shrug. ‘She is a common thief. She must be punished but she is not worth the effort of a lashing. Let one of the village men take her and use her as he sees fit.’
Meryt felt a wave of horror, for everyone knew what that meant. It was as good as a death sentence, or possibly worse. She looked around the crowd at the faces of the men, many filled with greed and lust. Some even licked their lips, and she felt the nausea rising in her stomach all over again. But there was a pause, for the villagers were reluctant to push themselves forward in front of such a great man.
And into that pause, someone spoke.
‘She is mine.’ The man spoke clearly, stepping into the square with his head held high.
It was Nebnufer.
The vizier raised an eyebrow, and gave a sort of smile. He spread his hands. ‘And much fun may you have with her,’ he said, in a cynical tone.
But Nebnufer did not move. ‘I shall not use her badly, my lord,’ he said. ‘I consider she has done a great thing for me today. She may even have saved my life. For that I will give her to my daughter Dedi as a maidservant and I shall teach her the ways of maat.’
The vizier made an arch with his fingers, studying the foreman through narrowed eyes. Then he turned to the crowd. ‘Do the villagers think well of this?’ he asked.
In the roar of approval that followed, the villagers rose to their feet and shouted praises to the vizier, the voice of their god and king. Meryt and Kenna rose with them and joined in, clapping with joy.
The vizier’s entourage did not linger. At a click of the great man’s fingers, the chariots were brought forward and he was soon on his way, heading back across the river to the east bank. Exhausted, the villagers began to disperse. The fate of Userkaf flashed through Meryt’s mind and she pushed it away. The punishment of the gods was just. Instead, she thought of Nebnufer and his family, Nofret, and the happy future that was now assured for Dedi and Neben-Maat.
The thought of this reminded her of Ramose. As she and Kenna wandered through the village gate, she knew the time had come to give Kenna the news at last.
‘I was about to tell you something, just as the vizier came back,’ she said.
‘Were you?’ Kenna grinned. ‘Go on then.’
Meryt took a deep breath. ‘I am not going to marry Ramose,’ she said.
‘Is that it?’
‘Yes!’ she exclaimed. ‘Why? Did you expect more?’
Kenna shrugged, and laughed. ‘I thought you were going to say you knew something about all that business with Nofret.’
‘Oh!’ Meryt stared at him, feeling her cheeks growing hot. She was about to turn away in frustration when Kenna touched her arm.
‘I’m glad,’ he said. ‘About Ramose, I mean.’
‘Are you sure?’ Meryt stared at him indignantly.
