walked quietly to the tomb entrance and paused outside the open double doors. The chapel bricks, painted white, reflected heat at him. At first he could only see shadows. As his vision adjusted to the reduced light, he saw painted walls bearing scenes of deceased villagers receiving offerings from family members, of patron deities of the artisans. He slipped inside and placed his back to a wall.
The chapel had a short entrance hall that ended in
Murder in the Place of Anu'bis 165 steps descending to the cramped devotional chamber below. He could hear Woser muttering there, and light from a lamp filtered up as well. Kysen walked halfway down the steps, paused, then descended until he could see the draftsman. Woser stood before an offering table. He was mumbling a prayer and holding bread and dried fish up in both hands. Then he placed the food on the altar, poured beer into a cup, and placed that on the altar.
Kysen was about to leave when he heard a snuffle.
He paused, then turned back to stare at the drafts man. Woser wiped his generous nose on the back of his hand. He fumbled at the waistband of his kilt and drew forth a folded papyrus sheet.›
Opening it, he began to read aloud. 'O demon who hath tortured me for many days, I propitiate thee. Take this bread, this fish, this beer for thy sustenance.'
Woser stuttered and sobbed. He wiped his face with the papyrus, then covered his eyes with the sheet and wailed incomprehensibly. He sank to his knees, rocked back and forth, and muttered into the papyrus.
Kysen drew nearer, hoping to make out what the draftsman was saying, but Woser suddenly coughed. Then he choked, grabbed the cup of beer, and downed it. Sighing, he folded the sheet and placed it on the offering table along with the food.
'O Ptah, O Hathor, O Amun, I beseech thee, make this demon fly from me. I mean no harm to anyone, not to the living or-or to th-the dead.' Woser broke off to moan and rock again. When he regained some calm, he continued. 'Make me skilled in drafting and in learning to sculpt, and intercede for me with Osiris and the gods of the underworld. I promise entire devotion. I never meant harm. I never meant evil. I beg to be delivered from sin, from this demon.'
Kysen leaned against the chapel wall, disconcerted at the fearfulness in Woser's voice. Of course, if he'd been beset with such an evil illness for days on end, he might be fearful too. He thought Woser had finished, but he was wrong. The man stood, a papyrus reed with a nose, and began what Kysen recognized as a ritual exorcism. No doubt the physician from Thebes had recommended one as a part of Woser's recovery.
The draftsman produced a carved amulet, the Eye of Horus. Of limestone painted to resemble a stylized eye, it signified health. Woser lay the amulet on the offering table. Next he produced a pouch, took a pinch of the dust within, and sprinkled it over the flame of the oil lamp on the table. Light flamed, and Kysen sniffed the bitter smell of burnt herbs.
'Out, O demon. I call upon Horus and Seth, Amun and Mut, Isis and Hathor. Aid me. Depart, O demon. I have done no wrong. I have not killed; I have not spoken lies; I have not stolen. I am blameless of sin. Depart, O demon.'
More chanting, more herbs. Then Woser produced another, smaller Eye of Horus amulet strung on a beaded chain, slipped it around his neck, and prayed. Kysen shook his head and stepped out into the open as Woser rose to leave. The draftsman started and gave a little cry.
'You cut short the ritual confession,' Kysen said.
Woser's mouth worked open and closed.
'You left out quite a few sins.' Kysen listed them on his fingers. 'You have to say you haven't robbed the poor, caused pain, caused tears, made anyone suffer, damaged the offerings in temples, stolen the cakes of the dead or the loaves of the gods, cheated in the fields. There's lots more.'
'What? Whatwhatwhatwhat?' Woser added for clarity, 'What?'
'And you forgot lying with a strange woman.'
Woser swallowed and gawked at Kysen.
'Tell me,' Kysen said when it was apparent that Woser wasn't going to say anything, 'has Beltis said anything to you about Hormin's death or his family?'
'Sh-she said his sons killed him.'
'Many people could have killed him, including Beltis.'
'I w-was sick.'
'Yes, you appear to have been ill at the most convenient time.'
'Thesh will tell you I-'
'I know, I know.' Kysen turned toward the stairs. 'Just remember. The Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh know much and discover all, eventually. If you know something about Beltis, you'd better tell me before I discover it myself and find out you knew all along. I don't like it when people withhold knowledge. Not at all. And my displeasure will make your demon's seem like rapture.'
He left Woser then, knowing that a few hours of anticipating what might happen to him at Kysen's hands would work on the man's fantasy-ridden heart. When he emerged into sunlight, he saw that the supply party had dispersed. Thesh was leaving the pavilion with his arms loaded with packages and ostraca.
Kysen followed the scribe at a distance as he disap peared behind the village walls. He reached the gate as Thesh ducked inside his house. The man reappeared abruptly without his burdens. Kysen stepped quickly into the shadow of an unoccupied doorway and allowed several women to pass him.
Thesh dodged two girls playing ball in the street and walked directly into the house of Useramun. Instead of following, Kysen went to the side stairs that scaled to the roof of the painter's house. Climbing them, he slunk across the roof to the top-floor entrance and descended the ladder. He came out in the kitchen, where he encountered an old woman servant carrying bread in a basket. His hand went to his lips, signaling silence. She regarded him without much curiosity before quitting the house through the rear door. He crept toward the front room, lured by the sound of Useramun's voice.
'I tell you it means nothing,' the painter was saying.
He was sitting before a grinding stone and spooning crushed red ocher into a pot. Thesh walked back and forth in front of him tugging at a length of black hair.
'You didn't see Seth's face when Hesire confronted him. He went pale. I'm sure he understood. He's got a most clever heart, that one.'
'Aye,' Useramun purred. 'Most clever, and a fit body too. Perfect to the canon of proportions.'
'Are you listening? He knows!'
'Shoulders broader than the length from elbow to fingertip,' the painter murmured as he allowed ocher to spill from his spoon.
'If Ramose hadn't stopped him, he'd have mentioned the payments.'
'Nose not too long. Lips soft, yet firm.'
'And now he's following Woser,' Thesh said. 'Woser, with his demons and his sickness. Who can tell what Woser will say?'
'He has legs of the most precise musculature.'
Thesh stopped before the painter, chest heaving. 'Useramun, shut up and help me think. What if Seth reports what he's learned about us to the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh?'
The painter expelled an irritated sigh and laid his spoon aside.
Murder in the Place of Anubis 167
'Listen to me. Seth is a royal servant. We are royal servants. Royal servants know about side commissions and private arrangements that ease the conduct of royal business.'
'You mean bribes,' Thesh said as he raked his hands through his hair.
The painter cocked his head to the side. 'Don't you think our Seth indulges in bribes?'
'No.'
'Well, you're wrong.'
'How would you know?' Thesh snapped.
'I asked Beltis,' Useramun said. 'The little bitch is already busy ingratiating herself with the servant of the Eyes of Pharaoh. She ingratiated herself only a few hours ago. Several times.'
Kysen swore at Useramun silently while Thesh swore at him aloud.
'No use blaming me,' the painter said as he took up his spoon again.
