Death Comes as the End. Агата Кристи

      The boy, a handsome, discontented-looking stripling, was standing before her whilst she rated him in a high shrill voice, peering at him out of her dim eyes that were shrewd although they could now see little.

      ‘What is this I hear? You will not do this, and you will not do that? You want to look after the bulls, and you do not like going with Yahmose or seeing to the cultivating? What are things coming to when a child like you says what he will or will not do?’

      Ipy said sullenly:

      ‘I am not a child. I am grown now—and why should I be treated as a child? Put to this work or that with no say of my own and no separate allowance. Given orders all the time by Yahmose. Who does Yahmose think he is?’

      ‘He is your older brother and he is in charge here when my son Imhotep is away.’

      ‘Yahmose is stupid, slow and stupid. I am much cleverer than he is. And Sobek is stupid too for all that he boasts and talks about how clever he is! Already my father has written and has said that I am to do the work that I myself choose—’

      ‘Which is none at all,’ interpolated old Esa.

      ‘And that I am to be given more food and drink, and that if he hears I am discontented and have not been well treated he will be very angry.’

      He smiled as he spoke, a sly upcurving smile.

      ‘You are a spoiled brat,’ said Esa with energy. ‘And I shall tell Imhotep so.’

      ‘No, no, grandmother, you would not do that.’

      His smile changed, it became caressing if slightly impudent.

      ‘You and I, grandmother, we have the brains of the family.’

      ‘The impudence of you!’

      ‘My father relies on your judgement—he knows you are wise.’

      ‘That may be—indeed it is so—but I do not need you to tell me so.’

      Ipy laughed.

      ‘You had better be on my side, grandmother.’

      ‘What is this talk of sides?’

      ‘The big brothers are very discontented, don’t you know that? Of course you do. Henet tells you everything. Satipy harangues Yahmose all day and all night whenever she can get hold of him. And Sobek has made a fool of himself over the sale of the timber and is afraid my father will be furious when he finds out. You see, grandmother, in another year or two I shall be associated with my father and he will do everything that I wish.’

      ‘You, the youngest of the family?’

      ‘What does age matter? My father is the one that has the power—and I am the one who knows how to manage my father!’

      ‘This is evil talk,’ said Esa.

      Ipy said softly: ‘You are not a fool, grandmother … You know quite well that my father, in spite of all his big talk, is really a weak man—’

      He stopped abruptly, noting that Esa had shifted her head and was peering over his shoulder. He turned his own head, to find Henet standing close behind him.

      ‘So Imhotep is a weak man?’ said Henet in her soft whining voice. ‘He will not be pleased, I think, to hear that you have said that of him.’

      Ipy gave a quick uneasy laugh.

      ‘But you will not tell him, Henet … Come now, Henet—promise me … Dear Henet …’

      Henet glided towards Esa. She raised her voice with its slightly whining note.

      ‘Of course, I never want to make trouble—you know that … I am devoted to all of you. I never repeat anything unless I think it is my duty …’

      ‘I was teasing grandmother, that was all,’ said Ipy. ‘I shall tell my father so. He will know I could not have said such a thing seriously.’

      He gave Henet a short, sharp nod and went out of the room.

      Henet looked after him and said to Esa:

      ‘A fine boy—a fine, well-grown boy. And how bravely he speaks!’

      Esa said sharply:

      ‘He speaks dangerously. I do not like the ideas he has in his head. My son indulges him too much.’

      ‘Who would not? He is such a handsome, attractive boy.’

      ‘Handsome is as handsome does,’ said Esa sharply.

      She was silent a moment or two, then she said slowly: ‘Henet—I am worried.’

      ‘Worried, Esa? What would worry you? Anyway, the master will soon be here and then all will be well.’

      ‘Will it? I wonder.’

      She was silent once more, then she said:

      ‘Is my grandson Yahmose in the house?’

      ‘I saw him coming towards the porch a few moments ago.’

      ‘Go and tell him I wish to speak with him.’

      Henet departed. She found Yahmose on the cool porch with its gaily coloured columns and gave him Esa’s message.

      Yahmose obeyed the summons at once.

      Esa said abruptly:

      ‘Yahmose, very soon Imhotep will be here.’

      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

       Third Month of Inundation 14th Day

      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