He handed the note to the scribe. “I wish you to take this message to Lieutenant Menna. I must go to the hall of records, so deliver his response to me there. Report to me also if you fail to find him.”
If nothing else, the note’s enigmatic nature should pique Menna’s curiosity.
“They’ve not yet crossed the river,” Maiherperi said.
“Senenmut decided to use the morning hours to inspect the repairs being made at the mansion of the lord Amon here in Waset.”
“I thank the gods!”
The guard at the door, alerted by the exclamation whose words he had evidently not heard, took a quick step forward, poised to act. The commander signaled that all was well, sending him back to his post. “Your optimism is unfounded, Lieutenant. When he’s finished here, he plans to move on to Djeser Djeseru.”
Bak slumped onto a stool unbidden. “It’s not too late to stop him.”
Maiherperi made a sour face. “Amonked tried to convince him he must not inspect Djeser Djeseru today-or until the malign spirit is snared. He refused to listen, saying no one would dare injure him. When I seconded Amonked’s plea, he suggested we’ve something to hide, a wall that collapsed from shoddy construction perhaps or. .” He paused, smiled with little humor. “The list is endless, it seems.”
Bak muttered a curse. “You must somehow stop him, sir.”
The commander raised his hands, palms forward. “No man can stop Senenmut when he sets his heart on an action.
After all, he’s Overseer of Overseers of All the Works of the King.” A wry note crept into his voice. “He takes the task seriously.”
“If he witnesses a terrible accident, if he’s hurt or killed by chance or by design. .” Bak could go no further. The thought was too appalling.
“He’s blind to the risk. To his way of thinking, spirits malign or benevolent act at random, with no purpose. When we pointed out that this spirit is a man, he remained unmoved, thinking himself safe because no ordinary individual would dare touch a man so close to our sovereign.”
Bak stood up. “I fear not only for Senenmut, sir, but for Amonked as well.”
Maiherperi stepped down from the dais and laid a sympathetic hand on the younger officer’s shoulder. “No more than I, Lieutenant. No more than I.”
“Here it is, sir, the new plan we drew.” Hori, looking as proud as a father showing off his firstborn son, handed the new-made scroll to Bak. “If this was an early temple built by Nebhepetre Montuhotep, I’m not surprised he changed it. It wouldn’t have been half as imposing as the temple he completed.”
Kaemwaset hovered close, as pleased with the drawing as Hori. “The plan makes no mention of the setting in which the temple was built. If it was built. It’s smaller than the ruined building and could easily have been leveled and the new structure built over it.”
Bak knelt beside the pair and unrolled the scroll. The drawing, while a long way from being a work of art, was exactly what he wanted. He prayed it would also be what he needed. “Excellent. Let’s hope I can use this to good advantage.”
Even with the blank spaces filled in, the plan in no way resembled the temple he and his men had explored cubit by cubit. The entrance to the king’s tomb was some distance in front of the raised platform rather than at the back, as at present. The platform on the old plan, shorter in width and length and not as high, was surmounted by a small memorial temple rather than the solid structure and enclosed main court surrounded by a colonnade that lay in ruins on the existing platform. The colonnade court, columned hall, and sanctuary of the present structure were not shown at all. Six small chapels or shrines lined the rear edge of the smaller platform.
“Have you found anything else of interest?” he asked, rolling up the plan.
Kaemwaset pointed to a stained scroll lying on top of those in the basket. “One of the old documents we found makes mention of the sepulcher of a royal spouse named Neferu. It’s somewhere east of the new temple, at the base of the slope beneath the northern cliff.”
“In the path of the northern retaining wall at Djeser Djeseru?”
“Possibly. The exact location isn’t clear.” The priest offered Bak a rolled scroll made of fresh white papyrus. “The document was very fragile, so I copied it, filling in the missing or unclear symbols in red ink, as Hori filled in the plan.”
“Good.” Bak stood up, granted each a quick smile of thanks. “I can take it and the plan with me and study them on the ferry while I cross the river.”
The pair glanced at each other, visibly disappointed, no doubt feeling he was not giving their considerable effort the attention it deserved.
“Lieutenant Bak.” The young scribe he had talked with at Menna’s office approached across the courtyard. “I’ve delivered your message, sir, and the officer said he’d meet you as you asked him to.”
“How did he receive the message?”
“He was puzzled, sir, very puzzled.”
Bak nodded, not at all surprised. Whether Menna would have second thoughts and not appear as promised was an open question. Even at the best of times he was not dependable. With Senenmut’s inspection delayed, giving him more time, perhaps he should. . “Where is he now? Still at the garrison?”
“No, sir, I caught him as he was leaving. I think he was looking for a boat to carry him across the river.”
Bak thanked the scribe and sent him on his way. Had Menna crossed the river on an ordinary errand, or in an attempt to escape? Or to do further damage? He prayed fervently to the lord Amon that he had not missed the only opportunity he might have had to lay hands on the guilty man.
“I must go right away to Djeser Djeseru. Senenmut has delayed his inspection until after midday, and I must do all I can to ensure his safety while he’s there.”
“Do you think Neferu’s tomb is the one the malign spirit is seeking?” Hori asked, trying to hide his distress.
“It’s impossible to say. We’ve no idea how many wives and daughters Nebhepetre Montuhotep had.” Noting the gloom on both their faces, Bak realized he could not simply walk away from them after they had searched the archives with such diligence. “The two of you must come with me. If Lieutenant Menna turns up at Djeser Djeseru as I hope, you’ve every right to be there when I question him. While we await him, we can search out the tomb he’s looking for.”
Hori gaped.
Kaemwaset looked perplexed. “Lieutenant Menna?”
Bak realized they were ignorant of all he had learned since last he had seen them. “Lieutenant Menna may be the malign spirit. If he proves to be innocent, I fear we must look closer at a dead man: Montu.”
“Menna?” Kaemwaset shook his head in denial. “He’s the guard officer, a man above reproach.”
“Come. I’ll explain on the way.”
Kaemwaset looked as sober as Bak had ever seen him.
“The workmen and artisans must not be given the smallest hint of what you’re thinking. If they convince themselves Menna is the one who’s brought about so much injury and death, they’ll tear him apart.”
Chapter Seventeen
Bidding a temporary farewell to Hori and Kaemwaset, Bak hurried up the causeway to Djeser Djeseru about an hour before midday. The scribe and priest turned aside to walk to the ruined temple of Nebhepetre Montuhotep. At their heels, ranging from side to side as the urge struck, trotted a large white dog they had borrowed from a desert patrol unit garrisoned in Waset.
Bak stopped at the eastern end of the terrace, where it overflowed onto the ruined walls of the temple of Djeserkare Amonhotep and his revered mother Ahmose Nefertari.
Standing quite still, concentrating fully on all he saw, he studied the cliffs around the valley and the rim above, where a path ran along the edge. With the sun striking the cliff high and from the front, the vertical surfaces
