Imhotep (56 page)

He was
a different person now, walking in a land that he felt was his, although now
there was a noose around his neck and a knife at his back.

They
cleared the narrow throat of the wadi and emerged into the clearing by the tomb
entrance.

Four
of Djefi’s guards were standing to one side, near the palm branch canopy where
Paneb and Ahmes had eaten their lunches.  Imhotep saw another figure,
sitting in the sand in the shade.  Seeing a flash of dull red hair, he
realized it was Diane.

As he
turned to start toward her, Siamun yanked on the rope around his neck and
nodded toward the tomb entrance.  Djefi was sitting just inside the tomb.

“First
Prophet,” Imhotep called.  “King Djoser banished you to To-She, not
Saqqara.”

Siamun
yanked on the rope again, almost pulling Imhotep off his feet.

“You
forget where you are, Tim,” Djefi called from the shadows.  “Look around
you.  Do you see King Djoser?  No.  Do you see your precious
Hetephernebti?  No.  Are you in a position to give orders?  No,
I don’t think so.

“I am
First Prophet of the god Sobek, not some peasant who will take orders from you,
or from the king, for that matter.”

He
looked at Paneb.  “Where are the drawings?”

“I
took him away from his house before he could get them,” Imhotep said.  “I
asked him to take me to the governor’s house to get soldiers so we could arrest
… ” Siamun yanked on the rope again, choking Imhotep before he could finish
speaking.

“Bring
him over here,” Djefi said to Siamun.

“Paneb
said you were very interested in one of the false doors in the tomb,” Djefi
said to Imhotep.  “He said you are an artist.”

Imhotep
waited, feeling the rope tight around his neck.

Finally
Djefi stood and held out his hand.  “Give me the rope,” he said to
Siamun.  “Show me the door you came through,” he told Imhotep.  “And
tell me how to open it.”

He
yanked on the rope and Imhotep stumbled after him into the tomb.

With
the sun moving lower on the horizon it was nearly too dark to see inside the
tomb.

“A
minute, Djefi,” he said.  “We need Paneb to shine light in here.”

He
turned back to the entrance, feeling Djefi move to his side.  The tension
on the rope around his neck decreased as the priest came close.

He
knew that if he turned quickly and grabbed at the rope he could free
himself.  Looking out into the clearing he saw the four guards standing by
Paneb, Ahmes and Diane who were sitting in the sand under the small palm
shelter.  Siamun was pacing by them.

His
shoulders sagged as he realized that even if he was able to pull from Djefi
there was no way he could rescue the others.  “Paneb,” he called. 
“Can you and Ahmes set up the reflectors?”

Getting
to their feet, they went to the sand bank and each picked up one of the large
polished brass disks that they used to bounce sunlight into the tomb. 
Paneb handled his easily, but Ahmes still struggled to lift the two-foot wide
circle of metal.  The reflecting surface was slightly concave to help
focus the light.  The edges of the disks had grown thin and sharp from
repeated polishing.

Father
and son glanced at the sun and then Paneb pointed to a spot near the northern
wall of the wadi.  After Ahmes was positioned there, Paneb took a position
at the entrance of the tomb.  It took only a few seconds for Ahmes to aim
a shaft of light at Paneb, who angled his disk to focus the light into the
tomb.

As
Imhotep turned to go back into the tomb he saw a flash of movement along the
top of the wadi.  He thought it was Brian, but he had caught only a
glimpse.  He hadn’t seen Brian or Bata since they ran off chasing
Siamun. 

Siamun
hadn’t bragged about killing them, so Imhotep knew they were out there
somewhere.

Turning
back to the tomb, he felt an unreasonable surge of hope.

H
e gasped with surprise when he saw the
brightly lit interior.

The
walls were fully painted now, the colors vibrant and alive.  Along one
side of the wall a procession of servants brought food to Kanakht, who was
seated in a banquet chair.  Three of them were butchering a spotted ox
that was lying on its back, while a fourth carried one of its severed
forelegs.  Others carried woven baskets filled with fruit and grain. 
Platters of fish and jars of beer and wine were carried toward Kanakht. 
Still other servants led small deer, captured in the desert.

On the
left wall were scenes of Kanakht enjoying himself hunting.  In one he was
standing on a small reed boat, a throwing stick raised as the boat nudged into
a stand of reeds from which geese were flying.

Imhotep
wondered how Paneb had drawn Kanakht.  He knew the vizier had been busy
traveling in the months before his death at Kom Ombo.  He hadn’t come to
visit the tomb to pose, yet the images Paneb had drawn definitely were of
Kanakht, a much younger Kanakht, full of life and energy.  He had done a
wonderful job of capturing Kanakht’s features in the flat style of the time and
making them younger.

A tug
on the rope around his neck brought Imhotep up short.  In his amazement at
Paneb’s work he had forgotten about Djefi.

“Yes,
it’s all very nice,” Djefi said.  “But Kanakht won’t be enjoying it, will
he?  Now, show me the doorway to your land.”

He
pulled on the short rope, leading Imhotep down the hallway.

I
mhotep had no idea what he could do. 
If he opened the panel and let Djefi through and returned to the clearing
without him, there would be no one to stop Siamun and his men from killing all
of them.  If he refused to help him, then Djefi would have them all
killed.

If the
panel opened, if it opened, he might be able to squeeze through it ahead of
Djefi, race through the tomb to the spiral stairs and call for help.  Then
he pictured the sleepy, unarmed guards at the tomb and he knew they would be no
match for Siamun’s ruthlessness.

“I was
here when Diane and Brian came out of the tomb.  I saw them with my own
eyes.  I know there is a pathway from here to your land,” Djefi was saying
as they walked. 

“Diane
does not know where it is or what secrets you use to open it.   Paneb
believes there was a secret enchantment contained in the hieroglyphics. 
You came through here alone, unlike Diane.  So I know that you
understand.”

“I
will try,” Imhotep answered.

Djefi
followed, watching him closely, holding the rope in his hand.  He didn’t
think Imhotep would try to attack him; he had a reputation as a healer, not a
fighter.  Still, Djefi carried a knife in his other hand, ready to protect
himself if Imhotep did turn on him.

Imhotep
remembered turning to his right after he came through the panel, but was that
after he had turned and pushed the panel shut?  He couldn’t remember.

But he
did remember marking the entrance with the toothpick from his Swiss Army
knife.  He wished he had the knife with him now, but it was in his
backpack, which he had left behind at Khmunu when he had left there in a
rush.  His small spray bottle of pepper spray was there, too.

When
it felt like he had walked far enough into the tomb, he turned back to see how
distant the entrance was.  Looking back at the wall, he reached above the
lintel, feeling for the toothpick. 

There
was nothing there.

He
stepped back and studied the drawings, but he couldn’t remember what had been
sketched there before.  The hieroglyphics at the top looked almost the
same as he remembered, but not quite.

He
checked the next panel, and the next.  Still no toothpick.  He
realized he had begun to sweat.  He turned to the other wall and felt
along the tops of the panel then another panel and another.

Djefi
started to say something, but suddenly the light disappeared, leaving them in
darkness, and they heard Diane scream.

B
rian had watched Siamun marching Imhotep
and Paneb through the wadi, but he knew that Imhotep would be hurt or killed if
he attacked then.  Cautiously he had crawled along the top of the sandbank
that rose from the clearing at the tomb’s entrance, watching Diane and the
guards.

Peering
over the crest of the sand, he saw Diane’s battered face, the scratches on her
arms and the rope burn on her neck.  He felt adrenaline surge through him,
but he tamped it down, waiting for the right moment.

There
were four guards.  He recognized one of them as Bakr.  If Bakr
stopped the other guards from attacking him, then he would have a chance
against Siamun. 

A
chance was all he wanted.

He lay
back away from the edge and listened.  He jerked his head up when he heard
Djefi’s squeaky voice coming from the tomb.  He hadn’t seen him in the
shadows.  Are there other guards with Djefi?

Rolling
back to the edge he looked down and watched Imhotep enter the tomb. 
Siamun pushed Paneb toward the small shelter, where Diane and a boy were being
guarded. Then he walked to the edge of the wadi across from Brian and turned
his back to piss.

Now!

Brian
vaulted over the edge and landed soundlessly on the soft sand.  Ahmes saw
him and gasped quietly, but not quietly enough.  The guard nearest to
Ahmes looked up and saw Brian as he recovered his balance and began to run
across the sand.

Shouting
a warning to Siamun, the guard threw his short spear at Brian.

Brian
saw the throw and stutter-stepped to avoid it, but the hesitation gave Siamun
time to turn.  He saw Brian charging off balance from dodging the
spear. 

Ducking
low, Siamun pulled his knife in one practiced motion.

Twisting
his body, Brian dropped to his side and slid toward Siamun as if going into
second base.

Siamun
rose from his crouch, preparing to jump over Brian, but Brian dug his lead heel
in.  He let his momentum bring him to his feet and suddenly he was face to
face with Siamun.

Brian
twisted his right shoulder forward and slammed an elbow at Siamun’s head. 
He felt it connect with a satisfying jolt and Siamun fell back against the wall
of sand.  Brian danced backward, took a quick glance at the other guards
and then turned back to see that Siamun was still conscious and had held on to
his knife.

The
Egyptian pushed himself away from the wall, shaking his head to clear it. 
Blood trickled from his lip.

They
began to circle each other warily.  Out of the corner of his eye, Brian
saw two of the guards move away from the palm shelter to get behind him. 
He heard Diane shout at Bakr to help him.

“If
you help him, you will die next,” Siamun said to Bakr without looking over at
him.

Siamun
made occasional feints with his knife as they circled each other.

Brian
knew he couldn’t continue this; sooner or later the other guards would
intervene.  He felt them circling behind him, waiting for Siamun to give
the signal. 

As
Brian twitched his head to find the other guards Siamun took a step toward him,
tossing the knife to his other hand as he lunged, swiping with it as Brian
dodged.  He heard Diane shout a warning as the two guards charged from
behind.  Brian twisted away from them, but felt his feet tangle with the
shaft of a spear one of them had poked at his feet.  He fell and Siamun
leaped on him, driving a knee into Brian’s stomach.

Brian
felt Siamun’s rough hand grab his throat and the tip of his knife press against
his stomach.  He tried to roll away, but Siamun’s iron grip tightened on
his throat and he felt the knife cut into his skin.

He
looked to his left and saw that one of the guards who had been circling behind
him had gone to stand beside Paneb, the other was standing by Ahmes who was
only a few feet away, his eyes wide with fear.  Across the clearing he saw
Bakr and another guard watching over Diane who had pushed herself up into a
crouch.

Diane
felt a hand push down on her shoulder as she raised herself to her feet. 
Looking back she saw the strange guard restraining her.  Then Bakr reached
over and pulled the man’s arm away.  He nodded to Diane.

She
grabbed the handle of Paneb’s stone hammer that was sticking up from the sand
near her feet.  Gripping it she charged across the sand, dragging the
heavy hammer with both hands.

Siamun
panted and laughed. 

“I
tried to kill you twice before.  This time, I will cut your body into
pieces as Set did to Osiris.  But there will be no gathering of your
parts.  This will be a final death.”

Brian
saw Diane moving out of the corner of his eye, but he kept his face turned
toward Siamun so he wouldn’t look Diane’s way.  He felt the tip of the
knife cut into his stomach.

“Go oo
hell!” he shouted at Siamun and then he arched his back, pushing his stomach
toward the blade, surprising Siamun as the knife plunged deep into Brian’s
stomach.