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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
FIRST MONTH OF SUMMER 25 TH DAY
With the return of the members of the family from the Nomarch’s court,
the deed of association duly ratified, a general spirit of hilarity was felt.
The exception was undoubtedly Ipy who had, at the last moment, been ex-
cluded from participation on the ground of his extreme youth. He was sul-
len in consequence and purposefully absented himself from the house.
Imhotep, in excellent spirits, called for a pitcher of wine to be brought
out on to the porch where it was placed in the big wine stand.
‘You shall drink, my son,’ he declared, clapping Yahmose on the
shoulder. ‘Forget for the moment your sorrow in bereavement. Let us
think only of the good days that are to come.’
Imhotep, Yahmose, Sobek and Hori drank the toast. Then word was
brought that an ox had been stolen, and all four men went hurriedly off to
investigate the matter.
When Yahmose re-entered the courtyard, an hour later, he was tired
and hot. He went to where the wine jar still stood in the stand. He dipped
a bronze cup into it and sat down on the porch, gently sipping the wine. A
little later Sobek came striding in and exclaimed with pleasure.
‘Ha,’ he said. ‘Now for more wine! Let us drink to our future which is at
last well assured. Undoubtedly this is a joyful day for us, Yahmose!’
Yahmose agreed.
‘Yes, indeed. It will make life easier in every way.’
‘You are always so moderate in your feelings, Yahmose.’
Sobek laughed as he spoke and dipping a cup in the wine, he tossed it
off, smacking his lips as he put it down.
‘Let us see now whether my father will be as much of a stick in the mud
as ever, or whether I shall be able to convert him to up-to-date methods.’
‘I should go slowly if I were you,’ Yahmose counselled. ‘You are always
so hotheaded.’
Sobek smiled at his brother affectionately. He was in high good humour.
‘Old slow-and-sure,’ he said, scoffingly.
Yahmose smiled, not at all put out.
‘It is the best way in the end. Besides, my father has been very good to
us. We must do nothing to cause him worry.’
Sobek looked at him curiously.
‘You are really fond of our father? You are an affectionate creature, Yah-
mose! Now I–I care for nobody–for nobody, that is, but Sobek, long life to
him!’
He took another draught of wine.
‘Be careful,’ Yahmose said warningly. ‘You have eaten little today. Some-
times, then, when one drinks wine–’
He broke off with a sudden contortion of the lips.
‘What is the matter, Yahmose?’
‘Nothing–a sudden pain–I, it is nothing…’
But he raised a hand to wipe his forehead which was suddenly bedewed
with moisture.
‘You do not look well.’
‘I was quite all right just now.’
‘So long as nobody has poisoned the wine.’ Sobek laughed at his own
words and stretched out his arm towards the jar. Then, in the very act, his
arm stiffened, his body bent forward in a sudden spasm of agony…
‘Yahmose,’ he gasped. ‘Yahmose…I–too…’
Yahmose, slipping forward, was bent double. A half stifled cry came
from him.
Sobek was now contorted with pain. He raised his voice.
‘Help. Send for a physician–a physician…’
Henet came running out of the house.
‘You called? What was it that you said? What is it?’
Her alarmed cries brought others.
The two brothers were both groaning with pain.
Yahmose said faintly:
‘The wine–poison–send for a physician…’
Henet uttered a shrill cry:
‘More misfortune. In truth this house is accursed. Quick! Hurry! Send to
the Temple for the Divine Father Mersu who is a skilled physician of great
experience.’
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