He eyed the long palm trunk that had been removed from the opening and laid alongside after he and Menna had returned to the surface the previous day. The urge to go down again, to have another look around, was difficult to resist, but in the end he decided to wait. However, if Menna failed to bring the priest by mid-afternoon. .
“Here they come, sir.” Kasaya pointed eastward toward the causeway. “Lieutenant Menna and the priest.”
Relieved, Bak watched the guard officer weave a path among the worked and unworked chunks of stone scattered across the terrace. A slight older man and a boy of ten or so years trailed in his wake. The man’s hair was close-cropped and he wore a knee-length kilt. He had to be the priest. The youth carried a basket containing, Bak assumed, a censor, water jar, incense, and everything else required to purify the tomb. The wind gusted, raising the dust around their naked limbs and the stone images among which they walked.
As the trio drew near, Bak smiled. “I thank the lord Amon that you’ve arrived, Lieutenant. I was making ready to go into the tomb to check its integrity.”
“Why?” Menna gave him a sharp look. “I’ve every confidence that Imen remained on guard through the night.”
“As did Kasaya,” Imen said. “Lieutenant Bak thought I shouldn’t stand watch alone.”
Menna’s mouth tightened. “Do you not trust my judgment, Lieutenant?”
Bak did not appreciate being placed on the defensive, but he smiled pleasantly anyway. “I do, but a man alone looked to be fair game should a gang of men come to rob the tomb.
How would you have felt if we’d found Imen at the bottom of this shaft, his neck broken in the fall, and the tomb desecrated?”
“As I believe I told you earlier,” Menna said in a stiff, un-yielding voice, “I know well the men who dwell in this area, those who thrive at the expense of the dead. They’d never take a life merely to rifle one small burial place such as this.
There are, without doubt, other tombs easier to enter, tombs isolated enough that they could be robbed at will, with small risk of being caught.”
If you know them so well, Bak thought, why haven’t you laid hands on those who took the baubles I found in Buhen or the jewelry found on ships in the harbor at Mennufer? He was being unfair, he knew, too quick to judge. Menna had admitted he was not a seasoned investigator, and his resent-ment of a man usurping his authority was understandable.
The priest stepped forward, filling the uncomfortable silence. “I’m Kaemwaset and you must be Lieutenant Bak.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Amonked told me of your many successes as a hunter of men. He has every confidence that you’ll not only bring a halt to the accidents here, but will lay hands on Montu’s slayer.”
“I pray I won’t disappoint him.”
“He’s an excellent judge of character, young man. I’m sure you’ll live up to his expectations and reach beyond them.”
Bak was jolted by such supreme confidence. He had thought, when he left Commandant Thuty in Buhen, that he was free for a time of the burden such conviction added.
Another gust forced mouths and eyes closed and added a sense of urgency to the priest’s demeanor when finally the dust fell away. “Shall we enter the tomb, Lieutenant Menna?
After midday, I must teach this boy. .” He laid a hand on the youth’s shoulder. “. . and seven more as witless as he to understand the sacred writings of the lord Ptah.”
“Move the palm trunk across the shaft,” Menna said, including Kasaya as well as Imen in the order. “Bring the rope and light a torch.” His eyes darted toward Bak. “We won’t be in the tomb for long. You need not wait.”
Though annoyed by so curt a dismissal, Bak kept his expression untroubled, his tone amiable. “I’ve a slayer to lay hands on, Lieutenant. I wish to speak with Kaemwaset after he performs the necessary ablutions.”
The guard officer swung around without another word, watched Imen and Kasaya position the palm trunk and light the torch, and prepared to descend. When all was ready, he turned to the apprentice who had come with Kaemwaset.
“Go to Pashed and tell him your master has come. He must send men to fill this shaft. The task must be completed before end of day.”
“Yes, sir,” and the boy hurried away.
Menna glanced at Bak-an apology of sorts, perhaps.
Getting an affable nod in return, he turned away, soon to be swallowed by the tomb shaft. The priest promptly followed.
Imen sat on his haunches at the rim, awaiting the order to bring them up. Bak knelt for a time beside the guard, watching the faint glow of Menna’s torch at the lower end of the shaft. He heard the murmur of voices below and smelled a hint of incense, but his thoughts were on tasks completed and others left to do. He rose to his feet and joined Kasaya, who sat with his back to the human-headed lion statue, out of reach of the wind.
“Go summon Perenefer or Seked,” Bak said, “whoever can leave his men untended for an hour or so. I wish to learn what he thinks about the accidents and also look at the cliff that rises above the northern retaining wall. A portion broke away a few months ago, slaying one man and maiming others. I wish to know what made it fall.”
The smell of incense was quickly swept away by the sharp, warm breeze. The leaves Kasaya had thrown aside after his morning meal played tag with the dust sporadically racing across the terrace. Not far away, a crew of workmen manhandled a column segment onto a sledge, the amount of effort required measured by how loud their overseer bellowed. Snatches of a workmen’s song were carried by the wind, the source impossible to locate.
Kaemwaset’s apprentice returned with the men Pashed had sent to see the tomb properly closed: Perenefer, his crew of workmen, and two brickmasons. Three boys wearing yokes across their shoulders carried suspended on flat, square wooden trays the dry mudbricks that would be used to build the wall to seal off the tomb before the shaft was filled. The men huddled against various statues and column parts, keeping out of the wind as best they could while they waited for Kaemwaset to finish the necessary prayers. The long line of youths who had been carrying debris from north to south across the terrace swung eastward to bring the fill to the open shaft.
A call from below sent Imen scrambling to his feet. He brought up the basket containing the priestly implements, and Kaemwaset followed. After shaking out a tangle in the rope, the guard beckoned the first of the two masons who would wall in the tomb and helped him descend into the shaft. The second mason attached the first tray to the rope and began to send the mudbricks down to his partner.
“How did you find the tomb?” Bak asked, drawing the priest away from the many prying eyes and ears.
“Just as it should be. You and Lieutenant Menna are to be applauded for keeping it safe through so many hours.”
Bak responded with a wry smile. “Maybe the local tomb robbers fear a malign spirit.”
“Malign spirit, Lieutenant?” The priest snorted. “Our sovereign was conceived by the lord Amon himself. Would any vile specter dare approach the memorial temple of one so beloved of the greatest of the gods?”
“The men who toil here are convinced a malign spirit is responsible for the many accidents, and my Medjay saw it last night, walking through her temple and that of Nebhepetre Montuhotep.”
“Bah! Such spirits are meant to frighten the poor and uneducated-as they’ve done here at Djeser Djeseru-but not the man of learning you so obviously are.”
Bak relented, smiled. “I seek a man of flesh and blood, Kaemwaset. Probably more than one.”
“I thank the lord Amon!” the priest said, openly relieved.
“I’ve been summoned to purify the temple each time a man has died or suffered injury. In each case, I’ve been told of an accident that might’ve been brought about by a careless man or by worn or faulty equipment or, in a few cases, by the whims of the gods. I’ve found no evidence to the contrary, but I believe none of those reasons. Nor is a malign spirit an acceptable explanation.”