Death Comes as the End. Агата Кристи

and Hori sat quite still looking after him.

      There was a troubled expression on his face.

      Renisenb had been wandering aimlessly along the bank of the Nile when she heard shouts and commotion and saw people running towards the landing stage.

      She ran and joined them. In the boat that was pulling to shore stood a young man, and just for a moment, as she saw him outlined against the bright light, her heart missed a beat.

      A mad, fantastic thought leapt into her mind.

      ‘It is Khay,’ she thought. ‘Khay returned from the Underworld.’

      Then she mocked herself for the superstitious fancy. Because in her own remembrance, she always thought of Khay as sailing on the Nile, and this was indeed a young man of about Khay’s build—she had imagined a fantasy. This man was younger than Khay, with an easy, supple grace, and had a laughing, gay face.

      He had come, he told them, from Imhotep’s estates in the North. He was a scribe and his name was Kameni.

      A slave was despatched for her father and Kameni was taken to the house where food and drink were put before him. Presently her father arrived and there was much consultation and talking.

      The gist of it all filtered through into the women’s quarters with Henet, as usual, as the purveyor of the news. Renisenb sometimes wondered how it was that Henet always contrived to know all about everything.

      Kameni, it seemed, was a young scribe in Imhotep’s employ—the son of one of Imhotep’s cousins. Kameni had discovered certain fraudulent dispositions—a falsifying of the accounts, and since the matter had many ramifications and involved the stewards of the property, he had thought it best to come South in person and report.

      Renisenb was not much interested. It was clever, she thought, of Kameni to have discovered all this. Her father would be pleased with him.

      The immediate outcome of the matter was that Imhotep made hurried preparations for departure. He had not meant to leave for another two months, but now the sooner he was on the spot the better.

      The whole household was summoned and innumerable exordiums and recommendations were made. This was to be done and that. Yahmose was on no account to do such and such a thing. Sobek was to exercise the utmost discretion over something else. It was all, Renisenb thought, very familiar. Yahmose was attentive, Sobek was sulky. Hori, as usual, was calm and efficient. Ipy’s demands and importunities were put aside with more sharpness than usual.

      ‘You are too young to have a separate allowance. Obey Yahmose. He knows my wishes and commands.’ Imhotep placed a hand on his eldest son’s shoulder. ‘I trust you, Yahmose. When I return we will speak once more of a partnership.’

      Yahmose flushed quickly with pleasure. He drew himself a little more erect.

      Imhotep went on:

      ‘See only that all goes well in my absence. See to it that my concubine is well treated—and with due honour and respect. She is in your charge. It is for you to control the conduct of the women of the household. See that Satipy curbs her tongue. See also that Sobek duly instructs Kait. Renisenb, also, must act towards Nofret with courtesy. Then I will have no unkindness shown toward our good Henet. The women, I know, find her tiresome sometimes. She has been here long and thinks herself privileged to say many things that are sometimes unwelcome. She has, I know, neither beauty nor wit—but she is faithful, remember, and has always been devoted to my interests. I will not have her despised and abused.’

      ‘Everything shall be done as you say,’ said Yahmose. ‘But Henet sometimes makes trouble with her tongue.’

      ‘Pah! Nonsense! All women do. Not Henet more than another. Now as to Kameni, he shall remain here. We can do with another scribe and he can assist Hori. As for that land that we have rented to the woman Yaii—’

      Imhotep went off into meticulous details.

      When at last all was ready for the departure Imhotep felt a sudden qualm. He took Nofret aside and said doubtfully:

      ‘Nofret, are you content to remain here? Would it be, perhaps, best if, after all, you came with me?’

      Nofret shook her head and smiled.

      ‘You will not be long absent,’ she said.

      ‘Three months—perhaps four. Who knows?’

      ‘You see—it will not be long. I shall be content here.’

      Imhotep said fussily:

      ‘I have enjoined upon Yahmose—upon all my sons—that you are to have every consideration. On their heads be it if you have anything of which to complain!’

      ‘They will do as you say, I am sure, Imhotep.’ Nofret paused. Then she said, ‘Who is there here whom I can trust absolutely? Someone who is truly devoted to your interests? I do not mean one of the family.’

      ‘Hori—my good Hori? He is in every way my right hand—and a man of good sense and discrimination.’

      Nofret said slowly:

      ‘He and Yahmose are like brothers. Perhaps—’

      ‘There is Kameni. He, too, is a scribe. I will enjoin on him to place himself at your service. If you have anything of which to complain, he will write down your words with his pen and despatch the complaint to me.’

      Nofret nodded appreciatively.

      ‘That is a good thought. Kameni comes from the North. He knows my father. He will not be influenced by family considerations.’

      ‘And Henet,’ exclaimed Imhotep. ‘There is Henet.’

      ‘Yes,’ said Nofret, reflectively. ‘There is Henet. Suppose that you were to speak to her now—in front of me?’

      ‘An excellent plan.’

      Henet was sent for and came with her usual cringing eagerness. She was full of lamentations over Imhotep’s departure. Imhotep cut her short with abruptness.

      ‘Yes, yes, my good Henet—but these things must be. I am a man who can seldom count on any stretch of peace or rest. I must toil ceaselessly for my family—little though they sometimes appreciate it. Now I wish to speak to you very seriously. You love me faithfully and devotedly, I know—I can leave you in a position of trust. Guard Nofret here—she is very dear to me.’

      ‘Whoever is dear to you, master, is dear to me,’ Henet declared with fervour.

      ‘Very good. Then you will devote yourself to Nofret’s interests?’

      Henet turned towards Nofret who was watching her under lowered lids.

      ‘You are too beautiful, Nofret,’ she said. ‘That is the trouble. That is why the others are jealous—but I will look after you—I will warn you of all they say and do. You can count on me!’

      There was a pause whilst the eyes of the two women met.

      ‘You can count on me,’ Henet repeated.

      A slow smile came to Nofret’s lips—a rather curious smile.

      ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I understand you, Henet. I think I can count on you.’

      Imhotep cleared his throat noisily.

      ‘Then I think all is arranged—yes—everything is satisfactory. Organization—that has always been my strong point.’

      There was a dry cackle of laughter and Imhotep turned sharply to see his mother standing in the entrance of the room. She was supporting her weight on a stick and looked more dried up and malevolent than ever.

      ‘What a wonderful son I have!’ she observed.

      ‘I must not delay—there are some instructions to Hori—’ Muttering importantly, Imhotep hurried from the room. He managed to avoid meeting his mother’s eye.

      Esa